


The Ocean's Bride

by fulcrumstardust, halflingmerry



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Class Issues, Explicit Language, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, HEA, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Movie: Titanic (1997), Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Sexism, Romance, Sexual Content, They Both Live (because we have a heart), cross-over, cw: domestic violence, cw: racism, cw: suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrumstardust/pseuds/fulcrumstardust, https://archiveofourown.org/users/halflingmerry/pseuds/halflingmerry
Summary: 《  Jyn's hands gripped the railing in fear as she turned her attention to him. "Stay back!" she ordered fiercely. "Go away. I'm busy."Cassian was surprised almost into a laugh. He put up both palms. “I’ll stay back, but I’m sorry. I won’t go away.” 》–-Or, a Titanic AU with some twists and turns and both of them alive at the end.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 129
Kudos: 118





	1. 10 April 1912

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, welcome or welcome back! We have a new story for you :)  
> It's already written and done so you can expect an update every Sunday. Have a good time <3

The wharf was a pickpocket’s paradise. That’s why the all-important documents were in his boot. The rest of Cassian Andor shouldn’t seem much of a prospect, yet he’d still had to catch four—oof, five—hands out from under his jacket. Then there was one, so small in his, that didn’t dart away. He looked down and saw the bruised wrist.

His mind flew into flashes, dissections, projections. Could he claim her as a daughter to get her on that ship? What then? The life she’d be in for if she stayed with him…

He gently turned their hands. She didn’t run. Cassian knelt. It wasn’t enough, but he gave her a coin that widened her eye—and it widened even more when he whispered, “They don’t own you.”

She stared at him, blinked, and fled.

He stood again. He shifted his money one more pointless time. His second-most important papers, the ones for boarding, were in his sleeve. After two years’ work, he would _not_ be trapped on this dock.

His patronage proved itself. Hours later, Cassian stood at a rail under the sky. After London’s back rooms and alleys... me vale madre… everything was giant. The salt wind scoured his face. The water purred a tower below. That field of stars… dense and bright, gradations unobscured, utterly vast…

However unimportant he was against it, let even space bear witness. He’d done his work. He’d make it count. No stopping now.

From far away came the rushing echoes of clapping heels on the wooden deck, heading closer by the second.

Cassian released the rail and stepped into a shadow.

A small silhouette ran past him, so fast that he only caught the color of her gown: expensive shade of blue. She almost tripped over it, launching herself on the little staircase connecting to the stern, her voice a sobbing plea in the dead silent night.

She hadn’t noticed him, but...

Cassian had turned his back on many things, when he couldn’t afford not to. Now… this time... He weighed risks to the mission against the call of other rights and wrongs. He looked around.

Maybe just once he didn’t have to sacrifice the smaller deeds for the larger ones.

He took off after her.

She had ended her course against the railing of the farther spot anyone could hope to go on that ship. But not on the side people usually chose. Suspended above the black waves of the Atlantic ocean, the young woman contemplated the height she still had to jump.

He skidded to a halt. With excruciating care, Cassian moved into her peripheral range. He called in English, over the wind, “Miss… please; don’t.”

A tremor ran up her arms. Her hands gripped the railing in fear as she turned her attention to him. The pale skin of her face glistened from tears, red eyes shooting daggers at him. “Stay back!” she ordered fiercely. “Go away, I’m busy.”

He was surprised almost into a laugh. He put up both palms. “I’ll stay back, but I’m sorry. I won’t go away.”

A hard frown appeared on her face, displeased. She looked around, maybe in search of arguments, her chest heaving fast under the tight corset of her gown. “You’re… distracting me,” she said. “This is none of your concern so I really need you to leave.”

“I ‘really’ can’t.” Keeping his hands up, he took a step toward the rail to her right. “If our places were reversed, would you?”

She huffed a little sound of outrage and jerked her face away, looking at the distant flat horizon. Her hands still gripped the railing with all of her strength, but her body slightly angled forward. “I’m doing it,” she said under her breath, barely a whisper. “Please, leave.”

He shook his head. “If you have to, you have to. I can’t stop you. But I won’t leave you to do it alone.”

The lantern hanging from the pole flag casted a harsh shadow on her face. More tears traveled down her cheeks. Her chin quivered, painted lips opening to let out a sob, “I’m always alone,” she said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Infinitesimally, he moved closer again. “I guess it couldn’t change anything, to talk to a stranger about it?”

“Talking won’t change anything. It’s the only way I can be free—” She stopped herself, looking down at the tumultuous ocean.

...oh… ow... “I know some things about seeking freedom. Wanna give me a try? You can always do that afterward. You can’t do anything after _it.”_

She looked at him again and searched his face. He’d piqued her curiosity, evidently enough. She might have been trying to decide which to prioritize in a moment like this, suspended meters away from her tragic death and a stranger’s critics. “Can you make me a man?” she asked, a burning fire in her eyes. “If not, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do for me.”

They were finally within arm’s reach. He didn’t reach, though. He leaned his forearms on the rail—deliberately, incongruously casual. “What kind of man?”

She paused again. “A man that can decide his life,” she said in a frail voice. “A man that can defend himself.” Tears kept rolling as she not-so-subtly bared her soul to him. “A man that no one dares to ask a _smile_ out of.”

She probably had a wonderful smile. He would have given a lot to see it. But only if it came from her, not from being _told._ “Less for men than women,” he conceded. “But… decisions… are always limited. One way or another. I could take you below; we’d cut your hair, put you in men’s clothes. I could teach you some moves. When you disembarked, though… I think you’d find a new set of limits. Sometimes we have better odds against the situation we already know.”

Her long dark hair flew around her distraught face under the salty breeze. She whispered: “My mother always said: _better the devil you know_.”

A shiver. “Sometimes. If we can change it.” —What was he saying… this was the kind of confrontation (of reality, of oneself) that _added_ weight; didn’t help someone look _up_ from the deeps. But they had rapport, now, so he dared try once more. He turned to look at her straight on and put out his hand. “Come back to this side? I couldn’t bear if our conversation ended now.”

She fixed his offered hand for the longest time. Then, carefully, let go of the railing on one side and slid her hand into his waiting palm. Cassian pressed his fingers slow and gentle; warmth and thanks, not constraint. He closed the distance, at last, to assist her over. She turned around like a tightrope walker, standing face to face with him for the first time tonight. Through the redness of crying, the color of her eyes struck him to the bone: an incredible gold-dusted green.

They stared at each other. At last, Cassian turned his hand to be more weight-bearing, and like a handshake. “Thank you. I’m Cassian.”

“Jyn Kallea-Erso,” she introduced herself like a perfected automatism.

He half-smiled. “Glad to meet you. Ready?”

She tightened her grip on him and lifted a foot in order to climb to safety. With the added height of the railing, she appeared almost as tall as him. The intricate beading of her gown tinkled against metal. Her next step should have made it sufficient for her to hop over.

Something destabilized her. She fell towards the abyss with a scream of terror. Cassian dove forward, braced on the railing, both hands shooting to seize her arm.

The wrench was dreadful. But it meant he’d kept his grip and they were anchored. “Look at me!” he shouted; his combat training snapped to the fore. “Look up. Keep your eyes on mine.”

“Don’t let me go!” she screamed, suddenly so fearful to meet her end. “Please!” Her free arm shot up in despair, trying to get a hold on something.

“I won’t!” he promised. “Grab my arm!”

“I can’t, I can’t!” Her weight pulled her down, sliding along his hold. She cried for help and had the disastrous impulse to look beneath her feet. “Cassian!”

“Look at me!” he repeated. He had an iron grip on her forearm, his arm bent and locked. “ _Jyn!_ Come on. I’ve got you.” Her eyes flashed up and he seized them with his. “I need you to pull yourself a little higher. You _can_ do it.”

Eyes wide from fear, she hummed a weary sound. Her most urgent concern refocused on him. She battled to reach the railing and closed a hand around it. She wasn’t heavy, but she didn’t live a lifestyle that required her to have any sort of strength in the arms. The effort felt momentous, probably helped by adrenaline. She dragged herself a few centimeters upward and alleviated the pressure from his wrist.

Cassian strained back as much as he dared to hoist her that much farther. He glanced to check she still had hold of the rail. “Hold on—”

One of his hands released her wrist to hook under her arm, around her. He strained back and up, more, more, until he had her fully.

Together, they got her over the railing.

They fell backward onto the deck, clutching each other for dear life. She was shaking from head to toe, her arms locked around his shoulders, hair sprawled on the deck. Her heart was racing so fast that he could feel it in his chest.

Then a breathless voice shouted in the air: “What the— _**you**!_ Get off her and don’t move!”

Three crew members broke their jog next to them. They must have been alerted by Jyn’s screaming. Needless to say, the appearances weren’t in Cassian’s favor.

And tipped the scales much closer to _threatening the mission._

Carajo.

With strange difficulty, like gravity was against him in this too, Cassian released Jyn. He put his palm to the deck to push himself away. His other hand raised—literally, this time—in surrender.

The man that had been shouting orders turned to his mate: “Fetch the Master-at-arms!”

⁂

Jyn wondered if all life had suddenly left her. She floated through the next moments like a lost soul, detached from reality. She’d been _so close_ to being lost. She’d wanted it, for a moment, entertained the idea— the promise of freedom and liberation. But as soon as fear entered her system, everything seemed so _absurd._ She didn’t _want_ to die. She just wanted it to stop. She’d been so blinded by her agony… if that man hadn’t—

 _Cassian_.

If Cassian hadn’t tried to stop her, then—

“What made you think you could put a hand on _my_ fiancée?” an angry voice roared nearby.

Jyn shivered from revulsion. God, she hated that voice. She knew from experience, Callan was only getting started. He could go on and on forever, indulging himself in his stupid plays for power. No one was to match Callan Krennic’s distinguished opinion of himself, not even _her_ , and certainly not—

Jyn snapped out of her daze the next moment.

“Call,” she said, approaching the man with a careful stance. “Call, _please_. It was an accident!”

Every man around had suddenly their eyes on her. Jyn resisted the urge to retreat, beaten under their cold stares. She couldn’t let her saviour take the fall for her.

The Master-at-arms, who’d put an unresisting Cassian into handcuffs, probed her: “An _accident_?”

Jyn wasn’t stupid. She knew how unlikely her chances were to convince them, but she also knew that Callan loathed scandals maybe more than inconveniences. Rumours going around in Philadelphia’s good society that his future wife had been molested right before the wedding certainly would hurt his incommensurable ego. Proof, if she needed it, he turned to her, pushing Cassian in the chest, and pressed her, too. “An accident?”

“Yes, really,” she took a sharp breath to hide her fear. “I was just… trying to see the…”

What could you possibly want to see under there? Waves? Dolphins?

“The propellers!” she conjured out of thin air, growing more assured with her lie. “After hearing how _big_ this boat is, all dinner long. So I stupidly bent over, and I slipped. I almost went overboard… but this gentleman caught me right in time. I would be lost if not for him.”

Cassian hadn’t winced at Callan’s blow. His eyes were the only part of him to move since they’d pinned him. Those dark eyes like _lightning_ seemed to dismantle every one of them, before they fixed on Jyn.

“Is that the story?” the Master-at-arms asked him.

Cassian’s voice came out altered. It wasn’t nerves—he was like a different person. “I heard the scream. I ran. I saw _la doña_ holding the rail. I tried to help.”

If he could read it in her eyes… she hoped that he knew how much that meant to her.

“Then this man is a hero! Good for you, son.” With that, the handcuffs were removed. Cassian bent his whole body to rub his wrists, as if bowing. ( _…but he shouldn’t have to do that…!_ thought Jyn with something harsher than astonishment.)

“Let’s get you inside,” Callan said, holding Jyn’s arm as if she was incapable of walking on her own.

The Master-at-arms cleared his throat, a judging smile peeking under the white mustache. “Maybe a little something to thank a good lad?”

That gave pause to their little group. Except Cassian who said immediately, “Please, not necessary. I did what anyone would.”

“No, no—Of course,” Callan sneered, nodding at one of his sbires. “Give a twenty to the man.”

Jyn yanked her arm free while he wasn’t looking. “How _generous_ of you for saving the love of your life.” Each word burned her throat like acid. She wished she could have pushed that pompous ass overboard with the rest of his clique, to never hear again the sound of their complacent chatting while they congratulated themselves on being masters of the universe.

“Jyn is displeased,” Callan said like a shared joke. A few of them even laughed. “I know, why wouldn’t you join us for dinner tomorrow evening, mister… ?”

“Jerón,” said Cassian. “Matteo Jerón.” His eyes were steady on Call. They didn’t so much as flicker to her, but Jyn felt the warning he sent her way. She wouldn’t betray him, of course. Certainly not after what he just did for her, but she wondered (a bit alarmed) why he traveled under a false name. Why did he _not_ introduce himself as such to her.

“Mr Heron,” Callan continued, unimpressed, “so you can share your heroic action with the rest of our group. I’m sure the ladies would enjoy the distraction. And you’ll get a fine meal.”

 _Stupid prick_.

Cassian’s tone betrayed none of the emotions Jyn thought he had to be sharing with her. “Thank you for your generosity. I fear I would be the wrong kind of distraction.”

“No, please,” she said, taking a step forward before realising her mistake. Too late now. She avoided looking at Callan and conjured a timid smile. “You must join us. I can’t possibly be facing them alone after making such a fool of myself tonight. I need your help to distract them.”

She almost regretted her words—how she had the nerve to ask something more out of him. She shouldn’t press him. She shouldn’t put him in that position. He was better staying clear of that snake pit. God, she was just as selfish as Callan after all.

…except, whatever was happening in Cassian’s measureless eyes… the way they looked at her… They didn’t seem to think she was selfish or asking too much. “Then I am honoured to accept. Thank you.”

Jyn’s smile grew bigger, suddenly so relieved to have someone on her side.

She promised herself that she would be on his.

“It’s settled, then. See you tomorrow, Heron.” And Callan grabbed her arm again, yanking her like a dog on a leash.

There was no use resisting. Jyn kept looking at Cassian until she had no other choice but to turn around and leave. She wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of returning to her cabin, certainly not with him. She hoped that Maia was still awake, just so she could request her help to undress and hurried Callan out of her room.

Anything not to be left alone with him.

⁂

Cassian hadn’t planned to use the third class bathtubs. There were a half dozen of them for seven-hundred travelers. It seemed necessary, now. He had to wait a very long time to wash as quickly as possible.

The bigger challenge was clothing. He had one spare outfit in his duffel, better than what he was wearing, but not good. Cassian did what he could by way of mending and pressing it, anyway. He tried to gauge if it would be more or less conspicuous to not show up at all. And how maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved with _Jyn Kallea-Erso_ in the first place

…no. No. Leaving her there would have been too steep a price.

He felt too conspicuous, now, to go out on deck, even if the feeling was irrational. He went instead to one of the communal areas. He watched people and profiled them. It was good to stay in practice, and profiling gave a kind of perspective: get outside his own life to what he could tell of their stories.

A little later, the small child on his left tapped on her mother’s arm and said: “ _Mama, guarda!”_

Following the pointed finger, Cassian saw the young woman walking down the stairs in a white-and-golden dress. She blazed like the sun. She looked around pensively, composed and collected, her hair pulled up into a neatly arranged bun. It took her a moment, but she found him and a little hesitation slowed her down before making her way to him.

“Hello, Mr Jerón,” Jyn offered with a nervous smile. “I hoped to find you here.”

Cassian had stood already. “Hello, Señorita.” He felt the too-many eyes upon them. He didn’t want to give her name to the crowd. “Can I walk you outside?” _You shouldn’t have come._

“Yes, certainly,” she said in her most polite voice—matching the reserve. He bowed over her hand and wound it through his arm. The little child was still eying Jyn’s gown in fascination. She waved at her discreetly before returning her hand on Cassian’s arm. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

 _How could you bother anyone?_ “No, not at all.”

Some of the tension in her arm seemed to relax. They walked all the way to the main promenade deck in silence, where Jyn’s presence wasn’t peculiar anymore and Cassian’s didn’t yet become so. Over the sea, the late afternoon sun started to burn through orange shades, reflecting on the blue ocean in glimmers.

They stopped beside a deserted stretch of the railing, which looked and felt so different with people around, under the sun. Cassian dropped his arm from her hand and turned to face her, bracing himself for her eyes in the light. “How are you, Miss Kallea-Erso?” (Sí. Her eyes were stunning.)

She looked down with a sad smile. “Please, you can call me Jyn.” She turned her gaze over the water for a moment, and the tension in her posture returned. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for last night. For what you did… and also… your discretion.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She was short in stature but seemed taller today; standing straighter, head a little back. When she wanted to, he wondered if she could tower over anyone. “I’m glad I happened to be there.”

She frowned, her hands nervously fidgeting in front of her. “No, you really deserved a proper expression of my gratitude. And— after being treated so rudely… I know what you must think: poor little rich girl, how hard her life can really be? And you’re right. I feel ashamed of myself.”

Cassian the soldier shook his head. “There’s always someone has it harder. Things can always be worse. That doesn’t make trouble or pain less real.”

Astonishment made her blink a few times, destabilized. “Well, I’m really glad that you were there, too. And I hope… you weren’t injured…” She looked around nervously. “... pulling me all the way back.”

He put on an almost-embarrassed smile. “No, thank you, I’m fine. And you? Are you all right?” (Stupid understatements ahora)

Her lips parted in the center, revealing the white of her teeth. “I’m… fine. Thanks to you.” She hesitated a moment before adding: “Would you prefer that I refer to you as Matteo?”

“With others.” In her moment of terror, he’d known honesty to be the best tether. Now… “For you, alone, I’m Cassian.”

“I see. Are you still planning on joining us tonight? I’m sure Call didn’t leave the best impression on you.”

“That was nothing.” He still skated over it. “Yes, I mean to be there. Though I’m afraid I won’t make a ‘best impression’, either.”

“Don’t say that. I’d be happy to have you next to me. Decent company is the rarest luxury on that ship.”

He could tell his own smile at that—smaller, quicker—was also… touched. He shook it off. “Thank you. Though I’m not sure that’ll make me fit better in.” He indicated himself.

“Oh! I’m so stupid… I didn’t think of that. I’m sure I can arrange for you to borrow one of Call’s evening wear if you'd like. It’ll be quite proper.”

He didn’t try to hide the look that swept his face at that. “Your pardon, Doña Jyn,” he said flatly—knowing she’d protest a title and using it anyway, “but I don’t care to… be indebted, to him.”

Something passed through her eyes, and it almost looked like esteem. “You don’t have to play dress-up to amuse the gallery,” she said. “And you don’t have anything to prove.”

No. Just things to hide. “Pardon me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I don’t want you to come if it’s a burden. I just hoped—”

“Lady Jynevere!”

Unused to being crept up on, Cassian jolted to find the new voice’s source. There was a third person suddenly beside them—completely hidden by an arrestingly orange hat. She tilted the brim to reveal a pair of enormous glasses that obscured everything except a wicked grin. “Is this the knight in shining armor everyone’s talking about?”

_‘Everyone’… qué carajo_

Jyn offered an uneasy smile in return. “Mrs Kanata,” she even bowed her head to salute the old woman, “may I present to you, Mr Jerón?”

“Charmed, Señor,” said Kanata, offering her hand. The moment Cassian touched it, she added in European Spanish: “Is this correct? Those racialist fucks surmised three continents for you.”

Her intent was clearly rapport, but Cassian instantly classified her as a threat. “Sí, gracias, pero there’s no need to correct them.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t. And I won’t.” Kanata’s threat level only upped as she verbally switched ‘continents’ to match him. She kept his hand captive until he kissed hers, then returned hers to rest on her cane. “I’d give a good deal to sit at your dinner table tonight. As it is, I’ll be cheering you on across the room.”

Cassian inclined to her with a small, false smile. He turned again to Jyn, but Kanata, shrewdly oblivious, began again: “I couldn’t help overhearing a certain issue—One I might assist with. I have, in my luggage, several suits I am bringing to my son in New York. He is of similar height and build to yourself. I insist on lending you one for this evening.”

Cassian opened his mouth to protest. Then he glanced Jyn’s eyes, deep and luminous, and heard himself say instead, “That is extremely kind. Thank you.”

Kanata tapped her cane on the deck, approving. “We’ll use my cabin to do a fitting. Are you available now?”

He looked at Jyn, but nodded.

“I shall leave you to it, then,” Jyn said. “I’ve taken enough of your time already, but thank you for keeping me company.”

“Thank you, Doña Jyn.” The title, this time, was for Kanata’s benefit.

“I’ll see you both at dinner,” Jyn smiled at him more than she did at the old woman, before walking away.

Cassian and Kanata both watched her go.

Kanata put her hand on his forearm and pulled him down by it. “You’re playing with fire, chamaco,” she murmured.

“It wasn’t my plan,” he muttered back.

“It never is, is it?” She let go for him straighten up. “Shall we?”

Walking with Kanata was a trade-off. Jointly, they drew more stares than Cassian and Jyn; but the stares were much more on Kanata than on him. She responded to them with a brazen cheerfulness that made the back of Cassian’s teeth clench. _Must be nice… mustn’t it?_

When Kanata unlocked her cabin door, Cassian had the fleeting image of _her_ trying to… expecting him to… And indeed, once they stood alone in her suite, her eyes swept all of him with unhidden appraisal. But she didn’t delay. She extracted a full set of clothes and pointed him to the private toilet. “Take your time. It’s all at your disposal. Maybe we’ll trim your hair while we’re at it. But first, let’s see the suit.”

When he reemerged, she laid down the book she’d started and applauded. “¡Guapérrimo! They could have been made for you.”

He stretched his arms, reluctantly satisfied nothing strained or tore. “Though it hardly matters. I’ll be conspicuous no matter what.”

Kanata had already removed her massive hat. She now unexpectedly pulled off her spectacles. Unmasked, her features might have been credited, by their imminent dinner companions, to _any_ continent. “Of course. So, for the things you _can_ control, confound them.”


	2. 11 April 1912

“Sweetheart,” Callan called over his shoulder, “would you please hurry, you’re getting us late.”

At his arm, the Countess pleasantly said: “Don’t press young ladies, Mr. Krennic. The dinner isn’t starting without us.”

“Certainly not without you,” he smiled back with his sickening honey voice.

Jyn refrained from rolling her eyes and started dragging the pace on purpose. Any second she didn’t have to spend close to him was a victory. She certainly wouldn’t fight for his attention over the Countess, even if it meant getting to dinner by herself.

Entering the First class’s public rooms on A-Deck, the imposing sight of the Grand Staircase greeted them. Jyn took the opportunity to fall even more behind, letting her party mingled with others, as they shook hands and compliments, resumed the same conversations from the afternoon, exchanged the same old gossips, and flattered shiny diamonds displays.

Standing under the glass dome, Jyn smoothed out the fabric of her beaded gown, as if trying to brush off nausea away from her. It didn’t work.

She’d rather be anywhere else (not that she had a say in it) if it wasn’t for the prospect of seeing _him_ again… hoping that he would spend the evening talking to her. She’d even put some effort into her hairstyle, letting Maia curl it for hours. It was foolish. Such things certainly weren’t of any interest to him. Jyn found herself out of line for even wishing that kind of attention.

The emerald cut diamond on her finger served as a burning reminder to her conscience. There was no exit available. Nor was it his duty to provide her with one.

Jyn took a deeper breath and walked down the central stairwell, mustering the courage to face the bigger crowd.

Someone blocked her way. She raised her head, defenses rising, only to look into the brown eyes of Cassian.

He looked… the mind spun. Resplendent in tasteful dinner wear; his hair neat, all over well-groomed; and… _twistingly, parchingly attractive?_ But that wasn’t different _._ And so much about what hadn’t changed at all: his quick, wary, but somewhere deep down—she wasn’t imagining it— _kind_ eyes.

Maz Kanata, larger than her size from the colours of _her_ outfit, had been on Cassian’s arm. If Jyn was thinking amiably, she would credit it to Mrs Kanata easing his entry to these rooms. Thinking only slightly more cynically, it was so Kanata could show off her… (creation?)

In the moment Jyn and Cassian froze, facing each other, Mrs Kanata let out a chuckle. “Good evening, children,” she said as she slipped away.

For another moment, Cassian stared at Jyn. (Like she was impossible; like he’d never expected to see her again; like she was the only person he wanted to see—ever—) Then, like a flipped switch, he was a different person. Formal, careful, just the right pinch of nervous. That version offered his hand.

She took it with a smile, regretful that she couldn’t feel his skin through her white gloves. “I’m happy to see you here, Mr Jerón.”

“I’m happy to see you, Miss Kallea-Erso.” He tucked her hand into his elbow. His hand stayed on hers. “Can you lead the way?”

“My pleasure.” Jyn walked them through the double doors guarding the dining hall entrance, occasionally nodding a courtesy at someone greeting her. She’d already met a large portion of those people while living in England. The faces were always the same in closed circles full of money. So, naturally, the presence of Cassian at her arm didn’t go unnoticed.

Most of them regarded him with curious stares, but polite nonetheless. After all, he was part of the club: they’d assume he was a newcomer, maybe he’d found a mine of gold in America. New money, obviously, but respectable. And noticeably handsome.

“I can tell a number of ladies will think about you after tonight,” Jyn said in a tone of confidence. ( _I will certainly think of you._ )

He seemed at a loss. His hand tightened softly on hers.

“Here’s our table,” she said, stopping a few steps away to give him the upper-hand. “The woman next to Call is the Countess of Rothes. The man on the right is Colonel Astor, one of the richest men on the boat. He fought in Cuba against the Spanish forces and I pray to God no one is launching him on the subject tonight. The austere man standing behind Call is my father-in-law, Orson Krennic.”

She had to look away a moment, making sure her voice didn’t betray her. “Whatever you do, don’t fall into his games. The others are just nosy rich people, they won’t bite. And I’m on your side,” Jyn smiled. “Ready?”

Cassian’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes crinkled, just barely, enough to warm her right through. “Ready.”

In his shoes, Jyn would’ve run in the opposite direction. She couldn’t tell if he was intimidated or not, but she was grateful for his presence. For the first time in forever, the prospect of spending another evening trapped in this cage of frivolities and nonsense didn’t seem so dreadful to her. Even Orson appeared less frightening with Cassian next to her, as if he could protect her, somehow. Which she knew was untrue but strengthened her mind.

“Call,” she said, touching the man’s shoulder briefly, “you remember Mr Jerón, don’t you?”

It took a second for Callan to give her any kind of attention, but his gaze finally stopped on Cassian’s face—

Jyn tightened her grip on him.

“Oh my, that’s amazing,” Callan smiled like an insult. “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

Cassian, without a hint of irony: “Thank you, sir.”

Okay, time to move on. Jyn directed sideway as gracefully as she could before he had to face another one of those, “Let’s get seated.”

Cassian was like a dance partner. He looked like he was leading while he really followed her. It occurred to Jyn to wonder how many types of things she could do under such an aegis… and how badly she wanted to try.

They reached their table. Cassian released Jyn’s arm to pull out her chair. “Thank you,” she said and arranged the fabric of her dress with the flat of her hand. That stupid corset was so tightly laced that she had no choice but to sit with her back straight at all times (which was certainly the purpose, but extremely constraining).

The seats slowly filled up around the white-clothed table, topped with red floral arrangements, while guests happily kept on chatting over the live music playing in the background. For the moment, the party ignored them both, if it wasn’t for Orson’s stare that she could feel burning on her from ten feet away. Jyn touched her neck, playing with her mother’s necklace, uneasy. “Would you sit next to me, please?”

Cassian took the chair to her right. “How do you know the Countess and the Colonel?”

“I've been living with the Krennic family since I was a child,” Jyn explained, lowering her voice. “They’re very influential in London. Rich people like to stay among themselves…”

Cassian’s brow creased. “Since you were a child… and Call is your fiancé?”

Jyn felt a flush in her cheeks. “Yes. My father was a good friend of Mr Krennic. He died when I was eight in a mining accident, and I would’ve been left to fend for myself if not for him. You know, those kinds of things… arranged marriages are quite common.” _And quite not my taste_. “I have nothing to inherit from my father except a few coal mines and a lot of debts. Mr Krennic is a businessman. He’ll turn it into profit for his son.”

“Is your mother alive?”

“No, she died from pneumonia a year before my father. It’s just me.”

So quick, Cassian’s hand brushed hers under the table. He said softly, “I’m sorry.” —and she couldn’t say to which part he meant.

“Thank you,” Jyn said, blinking rapidly. “It was a long time ago. What about you? Do you have any family in New York?”

“No. I—”

As if to sever Jyn and Cassian’s conversation (—yes, exactly like that), Orson Krennic’s voice suddenly rose over all. “…to the aid of our dear Jyn.”

“Yes, dear!” said the Countess, turning in her seat to Jyn. “Won’t you introduce us to your gallant rescuer?”

“Of course,” Jyn smiled back without missing a beat, “This is Mr Matteo Jerón.” She introduced everyone else as she’d just done in private sans the commentary. “I was just telling Mr Jerón how kind it was for him to join us tonight. I’m trying to redeem my clumsiness. You all would be amiable not to get too close with any kind of drinks, that carpet looks pristine.”

“Your pardon,” said Cassian. Again, in an instant, he was different than when he spoke to Jyn alone. “I think _la doña_ is too hard on herself. There was a mist on the rails. It makes them more dangerous than they seem.”

“Gallant indeed,” said the Colonel, beaming. He looked sternly, unexpectedly, at Callan. “You said he was from Cuba, my boy. That is not a Cuban accent.”

Jyn grabbed the napkin from her plate to have something she could physically strangle to death on her lap. “Maybe you should ask our guest directly rather than making assumptions, Call.”

“Right,” the man laughed, unimpressed. He leaned back on his chair, half-turn to Cassian. “So where _are_ you from?” And suddenly, Jyn wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut.

“Oh, no, let us guess,” said the Countess, beaming at Cassian as if this game could possibly be for _his_ entertainment. “Let’s see. The Mediterranean, since we’re coming from Europe? America, since we’re going to New York? Or perhaps somewhere less obvious… Morocco, for example?” _What?!_ “We had a wonderful winter there. Very beautiful people. Not unlike yourself.” _Dear sweet lord— that’s the stupidest—_ Jyn reached for the flute of champagne in front of her and drank up, _eagerly_.

Cassian was unruffled. “South of America, _Contessa.”_ —taking her vagueness for his own use, Jyn noticed.

“So what brought you across the pond?” asked Colonel Astor, like they had this in common.

“There are _expatriates_ living in London. Artists, scholars, whose work could get them in trouble. I saved money to study with them. But, wars rise at home, as _el Coronel_ knows. My sister’s husband was killed. I go back to help her and her children.”

“Bravo,” said Astor, saluting with his flute.

“Are you an artist yourself?” a woman with a French accent asked curiously.

Meanwhile, the first course of their meal had started to arrive with a ballet of stewards and fine porcelain. Jyn took off her gloves like the proper lady she was supposed to be, feigning flippancy while her mind screamed: _would you read the goddamn room, Agathe?_

Cassian leaned back to make room; a subtle—perhaps noticeable only to Jyn—consideration for the servers themselves. “I learned I am not so talented. If I have enough to entertain my niece and nephews, I am glad.”

Orson looked at Callan and raised an eyebrow. Prompting him to say something.

“If I show you some of my work, I’m sure you’ll rethink your talent,” Jyn said, trying to redirect the attention. “My tutor left a piece of his soul behind trying to make something out of my fingers, and I’ve wasted a lot of good money. Isn’t that right, Uncle?”

They laughed at her, half-sympathetic, half-mocking.

“We had to cut our losses, after a while,” Orson smiled with a fondness Jyn knew to be false. “That poor man had nightmares about it. She was making a _mess_ , too.” More laughter. “Thankfully, Callan isn’t an art enthusiast. So the spell wasn’t broken over hideous paintings.”

Cassian looked at Jyn as if he _would_ like to see her work.

“I bet you’re excited about the wedding, Jyn,” the Countess teased. “Everyone is talking about it. You’ll be such a beautiful bride!”

 _Please, Lord, help me._ “I can hardly wait,” she forced out of her mouth.

“When it is?” Cassian asked, tactically (—wait, what? she meant “tactfully”) turning to include Callan.

“30th of April.”

“In New York?” asked Cassian. “Forgive me, I am curious; why not in London?”

Rather than Callan, his father replied dryly: “I’m making my son the head of our business in America. They’ll both start their new life as a married couple there. Of course, it’s only formalities. Let’s say they’re enjoying a pre-honeymoon until then.”

 _No, we’re not,_ Jyn fiercely thought. _And I’ll make you count the days while I still have a right to refuse you in my bed._

If Cassian’s smile changed as it turned from Callan to Jyn, only his eyes showed it. (Again, maybe only to her.) He lifted his glass. “A drink to your new life.”

Colonel Astor promptly raised his glass too, causing everyone else to raise theirs. He echoed approvingly, “New life!”

…which made it sound, to Jyn’s ears, either like they were hailing a baby _( **NONONONONONONONONO** )_ or a resurrection.

⁂

The Colonel’s presence turned out to be a gift. As Jyn had warned, he was easy to make into a diversion. When Krennic Sr.’s casual aggressions started giving way to real probes, Cassian gave a generic observation about the growing independence movements, then triggered Astor who obliged copiously. Nobody else would be speaking for a while.

Under the table, Cassian’s hand and leg shifted and met Jyn’s. It was meant as an _I’m sorry_ for getting Astor going. But they… lingered. With alarm, Cassian found he didn’t know where he’d been looking a second before his eyes flickered to Orson Krennic, and saw the man gazing levelly at them.

It was so clear. The main threat to Jyn wasn’t her awful fiancé. It was the father.

Except it was both. Orson’s social manipulations were met by Callan’s physical ones. The way Call would claim Jyn’s hand without ever acknowledging or checking… how he’d use it (and her) for others, exerting control… It would have been bad enough that Jyn didn’t like him. Cassian’d never doubted her desperation was justified. He believed her without this layer. But here it was, too...

As dinner wound down, Cassian had succeeded in all his own needs. He’d threaded the line, avoided traps, and came across neither threatening, overly interesting, nor too victimizable. He may even have found some insurance in the Colonel’s and Countess’s favors, against the Krennics’ lack thereof.

But Cassian was tense and enraged, danger senses almost as high as they went.

How could he leave Jyn with these people?

“Well, gentlemen,” Colonel Astor said, “join me for a brandy, will you?” Already, the tailored black suits were stretching from their seats, reaching for cigars and lighters.

“I’ll walk you to your cabin,” Callan said, holding Jyn’s shoulder.

“No, I’ll stay here,” she hushed him as flatly as she could—though it was evident to Cassian that she wanted to run in the opposite direction.

“Will you join us, Jeron?” the Colonel asked, clapping a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “You don’t want to stay with the ladies, do you?”

Cassian said, “I don’t?” He turned to the Countess and kissed her hand.

He gave no indication toward Jyn as they laughed. No; he timed it out. When goodbyes were being made all around, he took Jyn’s hand, waited until he saw a body pass between them and the Krennics, and, in that instant, whispered in her ear, “ _Where we met._ ”

He straightened and saw O. Krennic look again in their direction—too late. Cassian went right over to join him.

He didn’t know if she would. He just… wanted her to… have… a choice.

It proved easy to plead his way out of the gentlemen’s club quickly. “I shouldn’t, too much,” said Cassian. He made a glance at the waitstaff to put into everyone’s minds the crew, the officers, between poor Matteo and his low quarters.

“I’m sure I could…” started the colonel, a little drunk.

“No, no. You have been too kind already.” Good; the colonel shook his hand without protest. Cassian offered his hand to Callan and Orson.

“That’s probably best,” Call said. “We only talk about business and politics. Those kinds of things would bore you. But nice of you to come.”

Krennic senior wasn’t as openly insulting, but his suspicious stare twice menacing. He held Cassian’s hand with a firm grip as if he was trying to squash an insect under the sole of his shoe. An unpleasant smile peaked on his lips. “I hope the rest of your trip will be uneventful.”

_Don’t you just._

Cassian did not go straight astern. He wandered the decks in sprawling patterns. It seemed Krennic Senior had not put eyes on him. He spotted no shadow; no one familiar at all. At last, he made for the meeting place. He removed Kanata's jacket as he walked; shoved the tie in its pocket, unbuttoned his vest to hang open, loosed his collar and sleeves. Less conspicuous outside First Class. —Shedding the false skin.

The chill seemed to get colder every night. Under a dome of stars, lost in the middle of the ocean, so far from lands… the world seemed bigger and smaller all at once. On this floating piece of society… where the same rules always applied… but sometimes—

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping,” a familiar voice called after him.

Cassian was so glad to see her, it rang bells. “Are you all right to walk, a while?” he said, turning to Jyn. “It’s a big boat. We don’t have to stay where they might come, too.”

Was he imagining the blushing on her cheeks? “I’d be happy to,” Jyn said. “Though they won’t emerge from their cloud of smoke for a few hours, I assure you.”

He’d been presumptuous… and correct. With a less assured smile, he offered his arm. “Just for the air, then.”

Jyn linked her arm with his and her body slightly (electrically) brushed his side as they began walking on the wooden deck. She looked at him sideways, a genuine smile on her lips. “We both survived the evening. You were very impressive in there.”

“I hope _not._ They shouldn’t think I knew what I was doing.”

She scrunched her nose, hesitant. “Is that the reason you change the way you speak?”

So she’d gotten that. “Yes. People don’t pay as much attention when they feel superior.”

She tightened her grip on his arm. “I’m sorry about… them… us… the world… But Call only wanted to make a joke out of you and you were the most brilliant man at that table.”

He didn’t know what to say. He brought up his other hand to touch hers.

“Was it true what you said,” she continued, tilting her head, “about studying art?”

She hadn’t been hiding her situation from him. He hadn’t exactly hid his from her, either. No details, but letting her see under the curtain of his thinking, his choices… how far could he justify it? “Yes and no. I _was_ seeking such people. Just… not to that end.” He couldn’t go farther. He hoped she wouldn’t mind the withdrawal to: “I only kind of know how to draw.”

“I’d like to see it one day,” she smiled—as if there wasn’t an expiration date to their interaction. “Maybe I’ll find your art in a gallery in New York. I’ll be sure to tell them that I met you when you weren’t famous yet.”

“I’m afraid New York is just the port, on my way.” (…which hadn’t made him sad, before…)

“I figured that much,” Jyn confessed, looking to the dark sea. “But dreams are free, you know.”

_Not always._

“So, even if we only ever talk about it, I’d like to think that I’ll see you again somewhere.”

 _Definitely not free._ Expectations shaped reality. Wanting could hurt. Her little blazing starscapes of green eyes… No amount of _‘brilliance’_ in the dining room helped him figure out what to say out here.

“I’m sorry,” Jyn said, reading into his silence with a frown, “that was quite rude of me to presume… You’d think with that formal education, I would have learned how to be a proper lady by now.” She offered a self-deprecating smile. “Ah, I’m afraid I keep being a disappointment to everybody.”

“Please, don’t be sorry,” Cassian said. “ ‘Everybody’ must be idiots, to be disappointed in you. And it’s a nice dream.”

Her eyes widened a little, reflecting distant spots of light as they walked around the deserted promenade. A shiver passed through her and she moved a step closer, both hands on his arms. He unslung the jacket from his free arm and put it on her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing the garment around her smaller frame. A softer expression crossed her face, accompanied by an almost-regretful chuckle. “My father would laugh at me… We used to go swimming at the beach when I was little and at the end of the day, I always refused to get out, even when my lips had turned blue. I would pretend I wasn’t cold. I think I just didn’t want to put the dresses back on… but he always said ‘of course, I believe you, but the fishes have to go back to their homes, now’... Ah, how did I never question that?”

The thought of tiny her being so stubborn made him want to laugh and mourn, at once. “Where did you live?”

“Folkestone.” She must have seen the lack of recognition on his face to continue, “It’s a port town in Kent. My mother was born there, but we stayed in London for most of the year. I did not like it as much, as you may guess.”

Cassian nodded. “I didn’t get outside the city. People talked of the coasts as beautiful.”

“I liked the cliffs, and the sea. My father had a small boat. Looking at the shore from afar, everything seemed like a doll’s village. What does your hometown look like?”

“A bit far from the ocean. Not many cliffs. You can walk in hills in pine forests. And the desert, when the joconostili and palera flower… I wish more people realized how beautiful it can be.”

“You sound like you miss it,” she gently said. “Are you planning on going back?”

He looked at the ocean rather than at the deck. “To my country. I don’t know if I’ll get back to that town.”

It wasn’t what he’d said to the rest. If she noticed, she didn’t say it.

Their wordless walk led them for another while along the seemingly endless decks.

Jyn looked up to the stars, still pressed against his arm. “You know, it’s a shame you can’t come to the wedding.”

 _(So I can object?)_ —But he had to say something. “…Why?” _(Pfft, well done.)_

He knew the moment she opened her mouth that it wouldn’t be what she wanted to say. “I would have saved you a dance.”

And his heart kept on aching. This time, at least, it brought the tiniest inspiration. “Wait.” He ran mental diagrams. “This way.”

He led her to a portion of deck he’d circled after the dining room. Now, as then, light and sound spilled out from a porthole. Someone in that room had been playing a victrola. They still were. Stopping in the borrowed light, Cassian stepped back from Jyn and re-offered his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

She looked surprised for a moment, but slid her arms into the too-long sleeves of his jacket and offered her hand in turn. “Certainly.”

Their hands began in the proper places: waist, shoulder, palm-to-palm. As they stepped and swayed to the quiet song, their arms moved inward, until each had a hand around the other’s back and their joined hands on his chest. He smelled the fragrance of her hair. Then they were resting on each other… _like, perhaps, they’d done all this before_

“You’re a good dancer, Mr Cassian.”

 _Why_ did he…? But he did. He bent so his lips were near her ear and said softly, “Andor. That’s my real name. Cassian Andor.”

 _To most of the people on this ship, it won’t mean a thing. It just takes the wrong person._ If she was that, then his judgment was so far gone, he was of no more use to anyone.

She turned her head, just enough that he could feel her breath on his face. “I won’t forget it,” she whispered. “I won’t forget you.”

He wished they were in the sands of her beach or his desert. She could be rid of the shackling dress and sad eyes and dance under the stars and lay down with him beside her and…

 _Basta. Estás como una cabra. Dreams do have a cost._ _Basta._ Unwillingly, he stopped dancing and again stepped back. “I don’t want to keep you too late. Will they give you trouble?”

Jyn avoided his gaze with a sudden change of expression. “You’re right,” she said, “I should go back. Thank you, Mr Andor.” She took off his jacket and gave it back. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you. I hope you have a safe trip to New York.”

He took the jacket but still said, “I didn’t mean… May I walk you back?”

“You know that’s impossible,” she said over a sad smile, “I’ll only cause you more trouble. But don’t worry, I promise to stay away from the water.”

Perhaps he could be forgiven. For reaching for her and pleading her back to him. “You are not theirs,” he whispered urgently. “Never theirs. They only think so. May they learn how wrong they are.”

Jyn gasped for air like she was fighting a sob. “I hope you’re right.”

Cassian kissed her. It wasn’t a decision he made. It wasn’t how he’d have wanted to go about it. It was just his fingertips at her cheek, their eyes on each other's, her slightest lean to him, and then… _You’re not alone. I’m on your side. Wherever we are._

Her hands curled around his arms, maybe in surprise or in warning, but she _did_ kiss him back.

He broke away, aghast at himself. “I’m sorry, I… I should have asked if… I’m sorry, Jyn.”

She looked flushed, her eyes glassy under the diffuse light. “I’m not.”

Stunned, he touched her face again. He tried to put all the feeling another kiss would have had into that instead. “I guess the fish need to go home,” he heard himself say. “I think you’ll find your way. To find what you can control. To keep swimming.”

It felt a little better to make her laugh. She took her own step back. “Goodbye, Cassian.”

This time, he managed to let her go. “Goodbye, Jyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that Orson's middle name is actually "Callan"? An opportunity too good to be ignored ;) 
> 
> As always, we greatly appreciate your comments ❤️


	3. 11-14 April 1912

The walk back to her cabin took an unexpected amount of time. Jyn kept making the wrong turns and getting lost, too distracted to pay any close attention to her surroundings.

If only she’d been able to stay just a bit longer, dancing under the silent stars, feeling the comforting warmth of his embrace. Making sure this wasn’t a dream. But she could still taste him on her lips, and the memory of that kiss was the sweetest thing she’d ever known.

His attention never felt misplaced, never imposed. He didn’t look at her like a prize to possess. He didn’t look at her thinking about what he could gain from her. And from all the things he held back, to protect himself or to protect someone or something in his life, he never showed any malice or ill intent. She might not have known him, lacked the time to do so, but Jyn had no doubt about his character.

Cassian was everything she didn’t— _couldn’t_ have.

Her fingers still pressed to her lips, Jyn couldn’t suppress the blissful smile persisting on her face as she walked through the long First class corridors. Such a tender, bittersweet feeling. She would never forget. And the way his hands cradled her—

Something somber entered her mind, blurring the fantasies she had of him. Although Jyn wasn’t oblivious to the interest she provoked in the opposite sex, it’d always been instrumentalised against her. She’d made an art of avoiding such situations, of deflecting and fleeing the menace. With him, for the first time, it only felt like a compliment. So strangely enticing. A declaration made to her: _you’re worthy of the attention of someone kind, you’re worthy of life, you’re worthy of love._

Love… as if she had any experience of such a grandiose concept.

It had always been clear to her, very early on, that literature had embellished the reality of it. Even when, with a genuine (if maybe resigned) heart, she first tried to _love_ Callan. But such inclination couldn’t be forced any more than sympathy. Jyn wouldn’t love her husband and, dear God, she wasn’t certain that Callan could love anyone but himself. The prospect of bringing children to this world with such a man horrified her on so many fronts. When she had such fond memories of her parents, especially of her father, that fear hurt more deeply than any injury done to her.

She supposed no one had the luxury to choose their circumstances in life. Her hardships were the price to pay to not face thus of others, maybe unfortunate on different fronts. _Decisions are always limited_ , Cassian had said, his haunted eyes full of knowledge she would never possess.

What decisions did _she_ have? Meeting alone with a man in the covert of the night? Giving her first kiss away to someone she wasn’t promised to? Maybe keeping that precious secret safe inside her heart like an act of rebellion. Someone braver would laugh at her. Jyn didn’t have the luxury to be picky about her accomplishments, however small and tragic they seemed. No one would take that kiss away from her.

The excitement still beating inside her chest only matched her gutwrenching sadness when she opened her cabin’s door, knowing she had to fall back in line. But how to behave herself when she only wanted to run back to Cassian? She didn’t get much time to find an answer. That longing dream shattered around her like glass, greeted by the harsher reality.

“Where were you?” Callan asked, standing tall in the middle of the suite.

Jyn unfroze. “I took a walk on the deck.”

“Ah, something you’re certainly fond of,” he sneered.

“Yes,” she said, not reacting to the provocation. She moved to a dresser, removing her earrings to occupy her hands. “The air is quite nice at night and you can see the stars so clearly compared to the city.”

“The stars…” He took a few steps to stand behind her. Jyn refrained from turning, methodically pulling the silver pins out of her hair. “You have such talents to waste your energy on meaningless interests.”

Another cheap taunt. Her thoughts automatically ran back to Cassian (or maybe did he simply never leave), cautioning against showing too much intelligence. _Let it slip, play the part, let him feel superior._ But imagining the disappointed look on her mother’s face, watching her daughter making herself so small and compliant, Jyn couldn’t help herself.

“It’s far from meaningless on a ship. It would be impossible for us to navigate without knowledge of astronomy. You should discuss the matter further with Captain Smith if you can be persuaded to part with your brandy for a moment. I’m sure you’ll find it enlightening.”

Fingers tightly wrapped around her wrist and the next pin fell from her grasp without a sound. “Make no mistake, Jyn. Your little… temper might be amusing around a table but it ends when your audience leaves.”

The strong scent of tobacco reaching her nose made her turn her head the other way. Behind her, Call bent his head so he could reach her ear. “Be careful, you’re not as clever as you think,” he said. “If you look at him again like you did tonight, I’ll be extremely displeased.”

With a spark of panic, Jyn yanked her wrist away. Could he know? Could he have followed her? Certainly not, or that conversation would be very different. Jyn half-turned around, her hip hitting the dresser that prevented her from backing further away. “Should I be walking around with my eyes closed?” she frowned. “Would that _please_ you?”

“I’m not going to tolerate this behaviour from my wife,” Call warned with a chilling voice.

“I’m not your wife yet.”

He let out a chuckle of disdain that reminded her of Orson.

Without warning, Call grabbed a handful of her hair and slammed her against the dresser. A sharp pain caught her on the side of her ribs, air flowing out of her lungs. Jyn tried to push herself upright, both fearful and revolted, but couldn’t find her balance. She whimpered when his hot breath grazed her cheek.

“Since you insist,” he said, “let’s get over with the technicalities, sweetheart.”

A hand snaked up her thigh and started to fight with her gown. Jyn’s heart stopped beating.

“Don’t touch me!” She combatted his attempts to undress her with a desperate rage. “I’ll scream, I swear to God!”

“And then _what_?” he mocked her. “Do you think someone will care?”

No; nobody might have cared. Jyn was stealing for time, only retarding the inevitable. Sooner or later, Callan would have her and she didn’t have a say in it. But she wouldn’t give in without a fight, no matter the price. Breathless and trembling, she scratched her nails against his forearms and left a vicious mark on the skin. “Let’s find out!”

He recoiled with a hissing sound. Suddenly free, Jyn backed away without taking her eyes off him. Call readjusted his shirt and flattened his hair on the side of his face.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“ _Me_?” she panted, infuriated.

“I’ll break you like a mare if I have to,” he said, “but I’ll take what I want from you. There won’t be any denying your duties in that marriage.”

The threat left her petrified, arms defensively pressed to her chest. A line had been crossed tonight. Jyn had gone too far, she hadn’t been smart enough. _What can I do? What choices do I have left? This isn’t the life I want. This isn’t a life at all._

Displaying intentions to leave, Callan looked back at her once more, his face contorted into a grimace. “And stop wearing that stupid necklace. I spend enough money for you not to look like a cheap deal.”

⁂

Cassian went back to his cabin, and it was just as well he had to share it or who knew what he would have done. Every time he woke up during the rest of the night.

_(I’m sorry…_

_I’m not)_

He tried not to think of her. It didn’t work. He tried to be _satisfied_ with thoughts of her.

Because he wouldn’t cause her harm for anything. That eliminated… any action in his power to take.

_You can’t save her. She has to do that._

_She can’t be your mission. You have one already. Stay safe for it._

_You don’t have that kind of life anyway. Not to take for yourself. Not to give to her._

_maldición._

The next day, he tried to kill time until he could return the clothes to Kanata. Staying for tea almost as long as she convinced him to, still left far too much time in the day… on the ship… (in his life.) He found chores he could do for some of the others in the common area. He went for a long walk where she wouldn’t be. He forced himself to eat.

Another terrible night. Trying to sleep by imagining her; unable to sleep for the imagining.

His usually clockwork sense of time wasn’t working. He lost track of how long this lasted… this kind of vigil… trying to mourn her; trying to remain focused on objective...

Why right now! when he was least able to…?

The phase between assignments should be the easy part. It wasn’t. It was the worst. He didn’t have the immediacy and clarity of the work. Until he could deliver and get his next task, he just had to wait. _Outlast._ _Survive._ He might prefer some of the worst activities to this stagnation. With things to do, emotions suspended in favor of action. _This_ was when everything was free to descend… fear, doubt… want

And _this…!_ No method for managing feelings was working with this one. This was something he’d never felt before.

Could it simply be that he couldn’t pretend it away? If she were truly beyond him, he’d have to accept it. But it was a lie. They were still on the same boat. _Now,_ between missions, when he was weakest…

_It couldn’t be… he wasn’t capable of… he’d forfeited… he was unworthy… such things weren’t for…_

He grabbed the small bound notebook and went on deck. He’d learned to draw unromantically. Map-making. Communicating across literacy and language barriers. Identification. He’d had a few lessons, after all, with some of the artists he’d found—they’d taken a liking to him, or they needed to cover their interaction, or… (strange story. Moving on.) Cassian was good enough at signifying details. Generally, he needed to be looking at whatever he drew. Only if pressed could he recreate from memory, and then usually something he’d known in advance he might have to.

Right now… trying hard as he could… not to ignore her, not to forget her _( **never** ),_ but perhaps skip in time, manufacture _now_ the distance he would eventually (surely) gain. He tried to draw something he hadn’t deliberately memorized and hadn’t seen in a long time. He sat on the deck in the golden hour before sunset, and tried to draw the pine barrens and flowers that he’d told her about.

The distraction _worked,_ after a while, so well that his heart faulted him when someone said: “Cassian.”

Like but not a dream, Jyn materialized in the twilight. She looked as if she’d run the length of the entire ship, a hand pressed over her chest, unable to get enough air down her lungs. Hair fell down from her updo, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her pink face was flushed, but it was the burning fire in her eyes that startled him the most.

It was like the days and a half of resistance hadn’t happened. It was like _this_ was so laughably, obviously the only way. He couldn’t feel surprised because she was always going to appear to him again. Cassian was on his feet instantly. Notebook and pen crumpled in one hand. The other reached for hers before he stopped it. “Are you all right?”

(All he could do not to embrace her wholly, stop the chasm in his chest that was exactly her shape by bringing her to it, warm her until there was no more cold resigned dread in her eyes. And… then…? That was the problem. “Then” what?)

“I need to talk to you,” she said, avoiding the question. “Would you mind… coming with me, please?”

“Yeah… no… I mean, of course.” He stuck the pencil in the notebook, stuck the notebook in his pocket, and nodded for her to lead him.

...and though he was worried for her, it was suddenly so much easier, to stand and breathe, at her side.

She seemed relieved by his agreement. She looked around briefly before hurrying him with her. They walked inside, passing through corridors and areas he shouldn’t _quite_ be in. Jyn simply led him by the arm like she’d done days before. Cassian was supposed to be _good_ at this… but not until she’d let him into the suite and was halfway to a certain doorway did he realize where they were going. He stopped in astonishment.

“This… can’t be… safe, can it?” His eyes darted to all exits, corners and shadows. _(De puta madre, even on a boat, these rooms)_

“No one will show up, I assure you. I don’t… share… my room at night.” As to prove the point, she opened the door to a bedroom and expectantly looked at him.

If she were a confirmed threat to his assignment, he could have refused this. (Right?) As it was… the thought wisped through his mind while he was already halfway in. She locked it behind them and he could only take her at her word about privacy.

Jyn stood with her back against the door, staring at him with a subtle incredulity, as if she hadn’t planned this far ahead… or didn’t think that he’d follow her, to begin with.

It took her a moment to shake it off. He could almost follow the process from the way her body shifted to stand in front of him. Her breathing had slowed down, but her face was twice as flushed. She muttered something to herself, hands nervously clutching the fabric of her evening dress.

“I need… to ask you… something,” she finally said, fighting every word.

“Okay.” Instinctively, Cassian put his hands to hers and looked for a place for them both to sit down. She allowed it. They arrived with her in a chair and him on its footstool. “What is it?”

“I know I wasn’t supposed to bother you again,” she said with a poor smile, briefly meeting his gaze. “I just… I need… it’s—hmm.” She closed her eyes, frustration clearly taking over her. Yet again, he wanted to help but knew he couldn’t. _But she can. And will._

A short pause followed, then: “I don’t love him,” she admitted bluntly, “I’m sure you know by now,” and it seemed to unlock the rest, at last. “He’s the worst man I’ve ever met. If I had a choice… If I could run away… _be free_. But it’s not that simple, you were right about that. Still, I—” She cleared her throat, her fingers tightening on his hands. “Still, I can’t stand the idea of being his, and you said I wasn’t. You said I could take control of _some_ things. So that’s what I’m trying to do… taking control… I don’t want him to be the first man I let in my bed. I’d rather drown myself.”

_…Wait… hang on… you don’t… Wait_

“I know,” Jyn kept going uninterrupted, “you probably think I’m such a horrible, unworthy woman saying things like this… And it’s so—” She sighed unhappily. “I was raised with good morals. I know it’s terribly _wrong_ but, oh God, I can’t let him have what he wants.”

Was Cassian actually awake? He flickered his eyes away from her only long enough to find and read the title of a nearby book. Yes, right, letters always swam in dreams and the words wouldn’t be English… which meant… His eyes locked on hers again, dumbstruck.

“I can’t let him take that away from me, too. He failed me first; a husband is supposed to protect me, not… God will forgive me. Well, I forgive myself,” she decided fiercely.

…which might have been one of the most thrilling things she’d yet said, but…

“I don’t think you’re horrible,” he managed, trying almightily to get his thoughts in line. “And I’m… not… worried about” _a_ “god.” This maybe wasn’t the moment to explain just how much of a heretic she was sitting with. “But… Jyn…”

But _what?_ He knew he had objections. Could he remember them enough not to make them… seem to… shame her? “…do you know _me_ well enough? To… trust me?”

She blinked at him; her turn to be left speechless.

“Cassian. You _saved_ me,” she said so earnestly it was painful, “what more could I want? You’re so much more than I could— You’re—” She finally settled on: “I know I shouldn’t ask this of you… but you kissed me… so if you feel any attraction toward me, I thought…”

He interrupted this time, his hand turning and fingers bending to clasp with hers. “What sleep I got, I dreamed of you. That’s… not the problem.”

She had trouble swallowing, looking to their joined hands. She squeezed again. Her voice quiet and nervous when she asked: “What’s the problem, then?”

He needed to think. _Quickly._ What she was asking… it _wasn’t_ unfair on herself, was it? Wanting to take control, wanting a first experience she _chose…_ he respected those. Maybe he could trust she’d assessed him the way he’d _(oh gods hopefully)_ assessed her; it wasn’t just luck that he knew how _not_ to hurt her, might even be able to help future her gain more control. So… what _was_ the problem? Was it worry for her or for his own yearning ego?

“I have no… afflictions I’m aware of,” he said at last, “but I can’t guarantee it.” He didn’t need to waste time asking if Jyn had a prophylactic or search Call’s quarters for one. That was not a man to be so concerned. “And we could be careful but we could still make you pregnant. There are risks, Jyn.”

She exhaled a deep breath as if it was the _least_ of her concerns (which was madness). “I’d gladly have a child if it was yours,” she said, her eyes so eager, almost pleading. “So I can at least have someone in my life to love.”

La madre de… He gripped her hands and bent his face to them.

Long moments, he tried to slow his breath.

“Okay,” he said at last, and her hands squeezed harder. “I think... you’re right. Your reasons. I just… I’ve known you four days, but I know… a child of yours and mine… It’d break my heart never to meet them. And even if that didn’t happen. I… o cielos. Jyn… I’d love to. I _want_ to. A lot. ... I’d… only wish… it’d be about me, for you, too. Not about him.”

At that, shy tears started to pearl on her lashes. “It is,” she whispered, “don't you know? I wish we had other lives. I wish I met you before… I wish I could’ve been your wife, not his.”

…Who could smile when their bursting heart stopped their throat? He sat upright to cup her cheek and kiss her other one. “We’d need those other lives in so many ways.”

“Yes, I know… I know it can never happen. I only get you, here, on this _stupid_ boat,” she raged, wipping her eyes with a trembling hand. “And it breaks my heart knowing we’ll never see each other again. But if it’s all I have for the rest of my life, I want this with you. Only with you.”

…well… fuck.

There are some things that…

_…isn’t it important, now and then…_

_…to remember **why** we fight…_

_…couldn’t this maybe give her… what I see in her… can she know it too…_

_…oh help…_

Slowly, Cassian sat up all the way. He leaned to her, bringing his other hand to join the first, framing her face. Part of his mind claiming, _just this, just stop after this,_ while the rest knew this was surrender. Leading and yielding, he brought them to another kiss.

She softly gripped his wrists, leaning her head back to join him in it.

It wasn’t sudden, they moved so slow, but somehow he was on the same cushion as she was, their arms around each other, pressing into the chair.

 _…okay,_ he started to bargain with himself, as he stood, took her hand, and began following her to the bed. _Okay. So… if you only… just… She—_

Cállate. He silenced it all. Don’t try to plan. Find out. With her.

Jyn gave him another look, assessing, searching, then she reached for the back of her dress and started to unbutton the delicate fabric. Cassian followed, running his hands along her arms, joining her hands at the fastenings to help.

She shivered every time he brushed her skin or touched her through clothes. Her breathing seemed deafening in the silence of the room. The dress fell to the ground, revealing the white silk of her undergarments and the underbust corset covering her hips. So many things to unlace and untie, slowly, finding more of Jyn under each layer.

Once the corset joined her dress on the floor, leaving her only covered by the thin silk of a long chemise and a pair of black socks, Jyn reached for her hair and let it fall back on her back. She turned her head a little, maybe intimidated, maybe gauging his reactions, looking for cues. She then sat on the edge of the bed to remove her stockings and, from under her chemise, the drawers that came with it.

She seemed at a loss after that, and finally paused, looked up to catch Cassian’s eyes.

She looked so young, in that moment, he nearly called it off again. But the expectation in her… the fire… the _need…_

He had to hope his decision wasn’t just desire. If he went so, so slow, and _careful,_ and gave her the lead… then to stop, if she wanted, could be her own idea. If it was a suggestion _he_ made, she might feel she had to overcome it.

…Gods, he hoped this was for her.

He sat on the bed beside her. He traced his hand along her cheek, slipped it behind her head, gathered her loosened hair off her neck and let it flow through his fingers. He met her eyes to give her a reassuring and questioning smile. She smiled, too, if only with some uncustomed shyness. Okay: level the ground. He moved away from her to lean over and remove his own shoes. (Though it took a little extra doing, he slipped off his socks still inside them, both at once. The documents remained between socks and soles.)

He stood again before her and held out his arms to indicate his own clothes. “Help me with mine?”

Her brows betrayed her surprise, but she seemed determined to follow his lead _._ Jyn stood up again, moving her delicate hands to the front of his shirt. She started to unbutton it for him. With intention, he was _not_ solemn about it. He stooped more than necessary for her actual reach. He shrugged off his jacket as she worked on the shirt, and got tangled until she had to laugh and save him.

She finally reached the last button and paused, her hands holding the fabric, before sliding it off his shoulders. If her breathing got a little heavier, she did a good job covering it. —until, at least, her eyes found the scar between his shoulder and chest. Broad enough to be a burn, too raised and jagged for one; clearly long-healed; also clearly had been really bad when it wasn’t. He’d known by instinct she’d be able to handle it. She still surprised him: putting a soft hand over it, a masked pain shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” she whispered.

He let the shirt fall off his arms to the floor. It freed his hands (with calloused fingers and wrists) to skim at her waist. He whispered back, “I’m sorry you’ve been, too.”

She kept her hand on his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He saw… recognition. _I’m already on the ground… how do you keep knocking me over?_

“But not with you,” she said without a shadow of uncertainty.

“Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “Ready for lesson one?”

The flush of embarrassment reappeared on her face. She gave a half-smile, jokingly asking: “What?”

He traced and brushed a lock of her hair back from her shoulder, eyes barely leaving hers. “Forget about… any country’s laws, any man’s beliefs of ownership. You _never_ pass a point where you lose the right to stop.”

Callan momentarily hung in the air around them… and Cassian pushed the wraith away. This was for her. This was just _them_. “If you don’t like anything, _anything_ , please, please tell me. I need to trust you will. There’s more than one way to do anything. Your feelings are never wrong. Okay?”

He could as well have told her that the sun wasn’t rising in the morning. It took her a painfully long moment to brush away the astonishment before being able to answer, with a tiny but fierce voice: “Okay.”

He knew she was still unlikely to do so—such training was not so easy to overcome—so he’d stay vigilant. On the other hand, if _anyone_ could beat the odds, it might be her. He gave her another small smile. “Good.” He touched her face again. “Meet you over there?” Headtilt toward the bed.

Jyn leaned a little into the touch before stepping back. She lay down in the middle of clean sheets, her long hair sprawling around her face, the silk of her chemise reaching just over her knees, a little tangled between her thighs.

Cassian was hyper-aware of everything. Despite what he’d said, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—push thoughts of Callan fully from his mind. He tried not to hold them too consciously—couldn’t race through the possibilities that made him want to grab Jyn’s hand, run them to the lifeboats, steal one and start paddling to New York. _(No. Anywhere better, I can’t lead. Let her navigate.)_ But he did do things like choose to walk around to the other side of the bed before removing his belt. Standing at the foot of the bed to do so… too many echoes. He left on his trousers as he slipped onto the mattress beside her, lying on his side so they were face-to-face.

He put out his arm below her pillow, inviting her. Jyn slid into the space left for her against his side. Her hand returned to his chest, and even while her heart raced, she said without hesitation: “I know I asked this as a… favor to me… but I hope you’ll be enjoying it for yourself, too.”

The turmoil of his mind didn’t diminish how _good_ she felt in his arms. ( _Fitting_ that he hadn’t known could happen so quickly, a first time…) He touched his forehead to hers. “It’s not a favor. I wanted this. I want this.” _Too—_ “So much.” He kept their mouths apart, just brushed her nose with his. “…But I never thought I’d have _this_ with you. We could stop right now and I’d still be glad of this.” He pressed a kiss to her pulse. “I guess… when I think of this later, I’ll hope I was... able to… give… you… something, for going forward.” He kissed her neck again, a caress meant to relax more than excite; and then pulled back to meet her eyes. “Do you have any ideas what that should be?”

She had been distracted by the kisses. “I… just… I want to do it with you,” she said, fingers playing in the center of his chest lightly, “because I expect the first time to be the most uneasy, but I know you would never be brutal… so it’s easier… you know…?”

He touched her cheek as she fell silent and pressed another kiss to the side of her face.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Lesson two. I’ll bet you’ve been told things, like, _you’ll bleed, it’ll hurt…_ It’s nonsense. It doesn’t have to. Let’s prove it wrong.”

She raised a curious eyebrow, intrigued by the words. Her fingers mindlessly moved to trace the shape of his shoulder, which was an encouraging sign: she wasn’t uncomfortable around him. He mirrored, tracing the silk strap of her chemise—then bringing to her notice. “Should I help get this off?”

“If you want to,” she said, as if surprised by the idea.

He pressed another kiss to her skin. “As much as you’re happy with; I’d love to see you.”

The tiniest “Oh. Yes.” Jyn reached for the hem of the chemise and dragged it up her body. She sat up a bit to push it over her head and her burning skin almost shivered. He ran his hand up her back to help clear the silk, and give her a little warmth.

But it was when she turned to him again that he saw the bruises. Denser on one side, under her ribs.

His fingertips went to them, adding no pressure, just tracing… and he wondered how his fury might be showing on his face.

…Yet.

It didn’t dissuade him.

It made him want to go on _more._ Give her something _good,_ an experience, that maybe, _maybe (espero, madre de cielos)_ would mean… she’d know things didn’t have to be how she was told. There were other possibilities.

Maybe (por favor a dios) help her that much more to choose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy [Valentine, Victory, Vagina Day](http://vday.org)! ❤️ Posting today is a coincidence—if chapter had been _designed_ for V-Day, there might be differences—but still: please have this link!  
> We hope you liked this chapter! ;) Looking forward to your comments!
> 
> P.S. Don’t worry, this is _not_ a fade out 😉 You know us better than that. (And much more Jyn POV of course to come.)
> 
> P.P.S. Some beloved source materials from Merry, who had to learn sex positivity later in life; after internalized myths and misogyny, difficulties from disconnect with own identification/orientation, and unhappy initial experiences:  
> • [Laci Green/Sex+](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTXiNEUzXWKQRryyoaxU1yqwERU524__h) (learned a lot of my own anatomy from her)  
> • [~~Adam~~ Emily Ruins Everything: The Hymen Doesn't Work Like That](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ikXim4wevc&t=8s) (" _Physically_ speaking, 'virginity' doesn't exist.")  
> • [TED: How Movies Teach Manhood](https://www.ted.com/talks/colin_stokes_how_movies_teach_manhood) (if it didn't help bring about current understandings re: toxic masculinity, then predicted perfectly)  
> • And a V-Day kiss to my real life partner who helped me in my own self-actualization so much, and who's my main reference for a male partner like Cassian _not_ being only wish-fulfillment.* ( * As more experienced/educated adults. Everyone needs to learn and maybe have guidance to get there! <3)  
> These are not necessarily what I hope comments will focus on ;-) Discussion of course welcome! Also take the chapter for whatever it is on its own. Much love to all of you!!


	4. 14 April 1912

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is dedicated to their first time together; in the event you want to keep your reading T-rated, you can skip it and pick up the story on the next chapter without problem! :)

Jyn froze, realizing her mistake. She’d been so focused wondering if he’d like her body, she’d forgotten about the bruises. (Well, she forgot _lots_ of things when Cassian was nearby.)

She scanned his face with a hint of apprehension, trying her best to read him, but he seemed too far from her reach. She prayed that he wouldn’t change his mind or look at her like a wounded kitten he’d found on the side of the road. At least, now, he understood why she wanted to do this the way she did… And even— No.

Jyn had as many justifications as she could think of. It didn’t change the fact that, deep down, she was relieved for it. No use lying to herself. She liked everything about him. It wasn’t difficult to _want_ , in such company, and way harder to remember why she should’ve been ashamed of herself.

But she wasn’t.

Tentative, Jyn brushed her fingers on the side of his face.

“Cassian…” she said softly, hoping to unfreeze the scene. He lifted his eyes. They looked furious at the rest of the world, but only caring on her. “Don’t think about it.”

His mouth was tight. His eyes searched hers. He took one more look at her bruised flank. Then he bent, doubling over himself, to touch his lips to her side. The gentlest of kisses like a prayer or apology or, maybe, promise.

He unfolded, bringing his face back to hers, and the matter was closed. She could see how he refocused on her face, tension and anger melting away; until his eyes on hers only blazed with… _admiration, affection, wanting,_ understanding. At last, he leaned in again to kiss her.

Jyn closed her eyes instinctively, relieved and thrilled all at once. She pushed everything else aside. She wanted to only think of him, of them. Kissing was way nicer than she’d imagined. Or maybe only because he was good at it.

Her hand moved to his hair, feeling soft and natural between her fingers. She liked the way he turned his head with the shifts of her hand, his lips against her regaining some smile. She liked him the best when he smiled; he looked so handsome, so… _everything_. His hand cupped her cheek, again. He kissed down her throat, her chest, to, so gently, top of her breast.

 _Oh—_ Jyn exhaled a deeper breath, her pulse so much faster than the second before.

Each time his lips touched her skin, an unfamiliar agitation steadily grew within her. Pleasure. Warm and gentle. She wondered if everyone felt the same way with a partner. She wondered why men didn’t always make it pleasant, if it could feel like that to be with someone. Such a waste of time.

But maybe it wasn’t everyone— maybe it was just him. Because he was good at this, too. In which case, she was even more pleased with her decision.

Jyn had no concrete idea of what she was getting into, only what she’d pieced together from half-worded explanations and overheard stories. She wasn’t stupid, though. She knew how it _worked._ Theoretically. At least, she knew what they were working toward. And her pricey education told her that she was supposed to… _submit…_ to her husband for that. She found rather quickly, despite everything she’d been told, that Cassian didn’t seem to want any kind of surrender from her. And she knew by now, he was more intelligent than any man she’d met, so if someone had it right on the subject, it would be him.

Right around that thought, his mouth committed to her breast fully and she lost her train of thoughts entirely. His free hand—the one that wasn’t wrapped, almost protectively, around her shoulder where she lay in his arm—moved down to her other one, to do something with his fingertips to balance what he was doing with his tongue.

Whatever she had in mind, it wasn’t _this_.

Jyn’s brain slowly stopped working, submerged by the sensations. She’d never imagined it would be this good having his mouth on her _that way_. She’d never felt that sort of heaviness in her bones. She couldn’t control the soft sounds leaving her throat. She grabbed his shoulders. Her fingers followed the working muscles of his back, warm skin under her soft palms. It felt good to be naked against him. Freeing rather than embarrassing.

She didn’t mind that sort of vulnerability with him. For a moment, she could even forget about her life and pretend that Cassian was—and would always be—hers. What a life that would have been, both of them against the world.

(She could easily convince herself: they would have made a great team.)

Cassian shifted, moving his mouth to her other breast. Jyn moaned in response, arching her spine a little. His hand made room, settling in the center of her stomach, above her navel, where his palm pressed gently, like a reassurance or an anchor. But as her vocalisations seemed only to encourage him, that hand started to drift again. It skimmed around her side, followed the slope of her waist, traced a hip… and stopped on her thigh.

Cassian raised his face again to the level of hers. His eyes were darker with dilation but also… full of _light._ “May I? Touch you?”

Jyn wanted to say: _you’re already touching me_ , but she figured it was worth giving permission again. She nodded, looking at his beautiful face, and wondered if he liked kissing her as much as she did. There might be an answer to that in the flush on his lips and cheeks, matching hers; the crinkles around his eyes that could warm the sea.

At her nod, he gave again that smallest smile, the barest curving of lips that made it feel like the sun had broken through clouds. He moved in again to press his lips to her cheek. Jyn turned her face to seal them into another kiss, feeling the slight burn of his stubble on her skin. She catalogued that, too, as a pleasant discovery while she explored his lips.

His hand flowed over her skin, tracing her thigh to inside of it, and back up… And he was… there, touching so lightly. Jyn was surprised at how mild it actually seemed. Nothing dramatic, not even _invasive_ like she’d often envisonned. She could tell—he was taking his time with this. Not trying to claim her and be done with it but letting her adjust to his touch, for which she was thankful. Although she didn’t feel like it changed her or her world, and she was about to comment as much when his fingers came to a place that upended all of that.

And stayed, and began to flow, so soft and acute, only there.

Jyn exhaled a strangled moan. Scratch everything she thought she knew. The gentle heat inhabiting her turned into a surprising fire under his touch. She wasn’t sure how he could pull more reactions out of her, but she was _positive_ she didn’t want him to stop. She pressed another kiss to his lips, a bit more desperate maybe. He returned it as if they were dancing. —no: like a conversation. As eager for her contributions as to give his own. Letting them inform and build on each other.

Speaking of building…

Softly, he broke the kiss. —He was _breathless,_ she was distantly astonished (and somewhat proud) to note. He formed the words at her ear: “You don’t have to do anything; but you _can._ You don’t have to stay still or silent. All of this… it’s both of us.”

His breath against her made her toes curl. She sighed from contentment, her arms still looped around him. Jyn couldn’t decide what to do with herself but she liked the idea to do _and_ not do anything. It absolved her from guilt and pressure. She was fairly certain that he’d been with women that knew much more about this than her (which wasn’t difficult, honestly) but he seemed to enjoy being with her, too. That was a comforting feeling. As for the rest… She didn’t think she could’ve stayed silent even if she wanted to.

A weirdly-high-pitched moan answered for her again, her knees falling further apart without her input as he kept touching her. Whatever was happening to her felt too good to be worried about it. Besides, she trusted him (to know what to do, to not do anything unwanted).

“I like what you’re doing,” she whispered, wondering where her reserve went.

His whole body pressed deeper to her. His nose traced her cheek, and she could tell, for the first time since… they met? he _grinned._ “Me, too.”

She felt the blushing in her cheeks but she smiled, too. Her whole body started to pulse in tune with her heartbeat, pleasure spreading everywhere, running up her spine. Her awareness of anything else diminished but she could feel _him,_ very clearly, enjoying her reactions. Even riding them out, with her—one of his legs pressed to hers, his lips tireless on her face and neck. His breathing, and she could swear his heartbeat, unified with hers too.

A new sort of anticipation nestled low inside her. Like she’d discovered herself to have another heart, that wasn’t lodged inside her ribcage.

Jyn’s hands moved over his body, eager to find more skin, wanting to remember the shape of him forever. She pressed herself against his chest with a soft whimper. His hand—his fingers—between her legs never harshened, never faltered; but his arm beneath her, around her shoulders, strengthened, holding her still closer to him.

Jyn registered the telltale manifestation of his desire: a hardness she'd come to dread, but it didn't feel like a threat coming from him, nor even a demand. He didn't push it against her or try to urge any part of her body toward it. It was nice, actually. In just existing, unavoided but unemphasised, it seemed like more proof: he _was_ in it, wanting and feeling it all, _with_ her. Something vain maybe: he wanted her, and it wasn’t for the wrong reasons, or so she thought.

It only made her feel desired, in a way she could enjoy because it came from someone she’d fully chosen.

Jyn traced the side of his body under her fingers, not as assured and dexterous as him, but not uncertain either. His skin seemed to shiver in her wake and pressed to her that much more. His reactions emboldened her, made her feel less awkward with her actions. She followed a trail of dark hair that disappeared inside his pants and paused upon reaching his belt, trying to find some courage.

“Do you want me to undress you?” she asked.

His exhalation brushed her skin and he managed in her ear, “I want _everything_ that isn’t too much. I want what you want.”

It was the kind of thing men said to be disarming without meaning it. He actually—literally—meant it. She could tell. What pleased her pleased him. Jyn bit on her lip, still shivering from his voice, and coaxed her hands into cooperation. It was the least she could do; after all, this was her idea.

Admittedly, she didn’t know much but she knew at least that one thing: she wanted him, and not just in a metaphorical way.

Jyn worked through his topmost fastenings, focused on that simple goal, then had to feel lower for the rest of his pants. She’d never been this close to touching a man; this was uncharted territories _._ But she listened to his breathing and she unbuttoned the damn pants and she also… pressed her hand over him, exploring the feel of him in her grasp because he seemed to like it. (Truth be told, she liked it, too. Which was probably more shocking.)

Through all this, he’d kept the gentle touch upon her uninterrupted. Wonderful as the feeling was, Jyn noticed with a surge of surprised satisfaction (pleasure, pride) when another press and twist of _her_ fingers caused his to falter. She’d reached an impasse with his trousers, which had taken enough of her attention away from her own pleasure that he finally removed his fingers from her and brought them up to help; brushing against her hand, pushing away his offending clothing.

In a fleeting moment of clarity, Jyn finally noticed the unusual slickness between her thighs. And here she was blushing again like a schoolgirl. No one had ever mentioned anything about _that_ but too late, now, to worry about it. She had to assume it was expected, because Cassian didn’t seem to mind.

He caught whatever slightest signal she gave and asked nonetheless, “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said, her lips almost too dry. _Probably._

She tugged at his arm, hoping to have him back against her once he was clear of any clothing. He left his trousers to fend for themselves somewhere above his knees and moved back with her at once. His hand returned to its previous post, though it didn’t resume right away; as if waiting for her.

Jyn searched his dark eyes for a hint—but they searched hers back, so full and warm, and his brow arched slightly. Like he wanted to know what _she’d_ do. She decided to rely on her instincts. It had gotten her this far, with him, after all.

She settled on her back, managing to drag him over her, making space between her legs for his body. It felt like a natural position to be in. He went with her like he belonged there. She welcomed the weight on her, a blinding sense of security she’d never felt before washing over her. Jyn softly moaned against his neck, her body melting under him. The smell of his skin was wonderful, strong, warm. Another rush of pleasure whirled in her stomach. She had no other choice but to vocalise his name.

He’d followed her in all of it, holding her with his palms and arms and chest, his body seeming to seek her every curve to fill and warm. That calling went tangibly through him, shivering him head to toe, and he kissed her ardently. More… needfully… like he’d come up from underwater and she was the air.

But though he wrapped and was enwrapped by her, as much as they began to rock together and kiss passionately, he still held himself back. Or perhaps made no move forward. And she was fairly certain that it was supposed to happen at that moment. …He couldn’t be leaving _this_ to her, too…?

Jyn tried to think of something she was failing to do, but the simple act of thinking had become surprisingly hard.

Instead, she learned how pleasurable it could be to simply kiss and move together, responding to each other, his hard body pressed against her, feeding the tension running under her skin. It was almost too much.

Jyn gripped the back of his neck, fingers wound into his hair. She parted her lips because she had to breathe, and ended up tasting more of him instead. Her hips moved to meet him, unprompted, while her legs curled around his. “Cassian.”

He pressed his forehead to her throat. He breathed hard against her. She felt his hand fumble for hers. “Lesson,” he exhaled, maybe as lost with the numbers as she was. His fingers curved to slip between hers. “Do you want” (always, the start of every single moment of this) “to know… how to… put us together?”

Not like she didn’t understand basic geometry, but that seemed… interesting. Anything if that meant she would feel _more_. “Yes.”

Cassian brought their hands to his face. He kissed her wrist and the heel of her palm. Then, again, he drew them gently, down between them. He led her with touch and words to touch her own self, first. He _must_ have said aloud, for she felt his words through all of her: “No matter how much I or anyone else knows, it never compares to you knowing yourself.” There was merit in that thought, she had to admit, but right now… Jyn was almost impatient. At last, he touched her fingers to him, then moved his own hand aside so hers could curl around and, with his confirmations but entirely to her own liking, explore.

His skin was soft there, softer than she thought, almost like silk. He was hard—that was a given—but also… feeling heavy in her hand, or simply pleasantly weighted. Maybe she started to become delirious. She couldn’t concentrate on much beside this insistent need to feel more of him. She wanted to know what it was like to have him inside her.

At last, her hand still free from his, his only offering occasional light touches, he guided her in positioning him. Until she didn’t need to ask and he didn’t need to show. They moved exactly right, and the cant of her hips and hook of her leg brought them there, for his meeting arch to slide him, slowly, smoothly, in.

Jyn opened her eyes wider, processing her feelings. A lot of them.

It was… strange… not fully comfortable, with so much of him inside her, but no pain. She supposed there was no reason for blood, then. That was a relief. Cassian was right (once more): a lot of what she’d been told had been nonsense. She wasn’t taking it with her teeth clenched, waiting for it to end. It wasn’t done _to_ her, it was done _with_ her. And though he was over her, he didn’t try to control her either. In fact, he was obviously as affected as she was, as they both momentarily, breathlessly froze.

_This was my choice. I’ll always have this with you._

Jyn lost her thoughts into his eyes, which were locked attentively—afire with emotion—on hers. She let her body adjust to this overwhelming presence, curiously feeling things she’d never felt before. She had the urge to move, just an inch, angling her hips differently for a better fit. He shifted at once, only, with her, working together as they had all along.

After a few moments of carefully testing the outcomes, Jyn realized that she really wanted him to move. She rolled her body in, what she hoped was, an encouraging demonstration. He tremored all over; a sound caught in his chest, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. It finally spilled from his lips as _her name._ He wrapped her in his arms with his lips to her cheek and followed her good example.

Oh. _Oh_.

Okay. That was… different.

A raspy sound of pleasure echoed in the room as she enjoyed a new type of sensation. She’d thought her reactions had amplified his _before…_ now she could feel their resonance in her own muscles, inside herself, and how _her_ flexes arched his back and drew his hips. She’d never felt more in control. Of herself, of him, of everything. She was so glad it was him.

And she _liked_ it. Every time he slid and thrust into her, arching his body to stroke in hers with such deliberation, she seemed to reach a higher level of pleasure. She wondered how far she could go, how loud she could moan his name. Her hands rested in the curve of his moving back, nails accidentally scraping his skin. In answer, his lips parted for the barest drag of teeth on her neck. Electricity jolted under her skin. She threw her head back in abandon and finally closed her eyes.

One of his arms had come out from beneath her to brace him up. The other found its way between her spine and the mattress to slide down, coming to rest in the small of her back. It pressed her there in a way that seemed to aid and heighten every accelerating scoop of her hips. She let out his name again. She heard him… almost… _praying_ hers.

 _‘I’m not worried about God.’_ Maybe he just worshipped a different one. One who was fine with… whose devotions were more like… this.

And as much as her body welcomed and worshipped his touch, the pleasure, the _action_ … Jyn couldn’t help but dwell on the heaviness inside her. Sometimes begging for a response. If only she’d known to what.

Cassian’s movements sped, became ragged, then he shuddered, almost jolted, and stopped. His forehead fell to her clavicle, all of him stilled. “I need a minute,” he whispered. “Not to…”

Jyn pressed her palm on his cheek and moved his face to hers again, tracing his jawline with her thumb. She forced herself to say the words because there was no use holding back in a situation like this. “But you can,” she whispered, too. “I meant what I said earlier.”

He met her eyes, and his _adored_ her. “I know,” he breathed back. “But… I think… for now, I’m gonna disagree.”

 _For now…_ Like they could revisit the issue, later… And it crushed her heart a little to be denied that sort of hope, but she couldn’t entirely wish for something that would make him miserable in his own heart.

“At least,” he exhaled, slowly moving his body along hers again, “let me think about it… when I’m not… so… distracted.” His lips and teeth painlessly refound her jawline. He said between kisses, “Besides… there’s one more thing… I think… we might like. To try.”

To her surprise (this wasn’t an ending?), he rolled off of her. He stood to belatedly tug off his trousers the rest of the way. Then he was on the bed again and scooped her in his arms to bring her back to him. He was sitting upright, she was in his lap facing him, and he was urging her legs back around his waist. He raised a hand to brush back her hair, brown eyes searching green ones. “Still okay?”

Jyn had a moment of short stillness, as if her body had discovered something completely different. “Yes.” She touched her lips to his, kissing him as he taught her to. He embraced her like she was the most precious _(yet not fragile_ ) thing in his world. Like as much as he was holding her up, she was holding him up, too.

When their joined hands brought him back to her, when he entered and moved in her, this new position encouraged her moving even more on him, too.

It was harder to find a rhythm, at first, because she had to be so much more conscious of her body. And being aware of her pacing was a lot more difficult than just enjoying someone else doing it _for her_. Especially on such new grounds. But he was patient, his palms cupping her hips encouraging and aiding, never pushing; and she noticed the smallest teasing in her core when she moved the right way, doing it again… and again… her arms around his shoulders for support, her face falling to his neck.

Jyn could swear her whole body had been lit ablaze. Her hair stuck to her damp skin between her shoulder blades, and for one moment, she was so careless… running back on the white sand of her beach, with freedom and joy. —Yes, it felt exactly like that to be with him.

Then he did something that would _never_ have occurred to her: Without moving their mouths or chests apart, he slid his hand between their stomachs. He dipped down to kiss his fingertip to her _there,_ as before. But now only just above where he was inside her _._ No, really, how would that work, that couldn’t possibly be allowe—

_Oh, God._

It felt good before, but _now…_ Now, it was… an escalation. So much more needed.

Jyn loudly moaned in his ear as his mouth again found its favourite place on her throat. She figured: _this_ was the answer to her restlessness, because the more he fondled her, the harder her body melted from inside out. A never-ending hot wire running through her, pulling at all extremities to converge right where they joined.

She couldn’t tell who was doing what anymore, whether he was moving or they both were or just she was… but he was still there with her, holding each other, and his lips were near her ear, and through his struggle to breathe, he gasped her name.

Jyn wondered for a second if she was about to die—for all her sins—because she felt like passing out. But instead, she experienced the most devastating feeling of pleasure she’d ever known. It rippled through her like crashing waves, all of her tension finally set free, pulsing away from her. She released a gasping noise that sounded like a wail, but there was no misery about it. _Is that what happens when women have an intercourse, then? Am I supposed to know this? Wait, wait— Can I do this myself? … Will I feel this with someone else?_ (That last one sounded very unlikely.)

As she drifted back toward her body, she felt his hand still low, now holding her… between them; having lifted her off or pulled himself out and away. Obviously at the last possible moment, because both their stomachs and thighs were now a mess with… him. It put her earlier wetness to shame. His face was pressed one more time to her neck, breathing as laboured as hers.

Only when she started to move did he turn his face to kiss away some of her sweat and murmur, “Wait. I’ll clean us up.” He inhaled until his breath evened. Then he laid her gently ( ~~reverently~~ no— _lovingly)_ back and stood to go to the washroom. She noticed, with that same astonishing pride, that he was unsteady on his feet.

He returned moments later, cleaned off and holding a soft, damp cloth. The way he wiped her down, like all of this, didn’t make her feel embarrassed or controlled… nor even passive, since her stillness was her own choice. It was _holy._

When they were no longer at risk of soiling something more damning, he left to toss the cloth in the sink. And she felt stunned, trying to process the ending and accept the loss of him, because she didn’t expect at all (as little as she’d been able to anticipate all else he’d—they’d—done) his _return._ To lie again beside her. And take her back into his arms. The only place where she wanted to be.

Jyn rested her head on his shoulder, a deep sigh moving her chest. She was… _exhausted._ More than she had ever been. She could’ve fallen asleep just like that, but knowing that he’d probably disappear if she did kept her awake with a sting of pain.

“Thank you,” she finally murmured.

He pressed his lips to her temple. His heart pounded under her ear. “There’s so much I wish…” but he trailed off.

Her heart ached. She turned over into his arm, pressing her face to his skin like a child. That brilliant plan of hers… She had made it all worse, hadn’t she? How was she supposed to let go, now? She felt so trapped, so vulnerable, suffocating inside those lavish rooms made for someone else. “Takemewithyou,” she mumbled without breathing (half-hoping he couldn’t understand, half-hoping he _could_.)

His breath stopped. She had a flare of preemptive defensiveness—was he thinking she was too dazzled by their lovemaking to know what she’d said, that she was too sheltered or too young…? But he said none of that. He said nothing. Just hugged her tighter as his heart thud harder still. Like a caged thing. _Like her._


	5. 14-15 April 1912

The distance he hadn’t reached before descended now. It was all that loosed Cassian’s arms and got him out of bed.

Nothing felt real. The pedestrian task of getting dressed: like sunstroke or drunkenness. He didn’t keep track until he was standing, clothed, before the door. In a moment, she’d open it. He’d step through, and that would be it.

He didn’t know how he’d leave her if he let himself come back. He also couldn’t let the distance dictate their goodbye.

Jyn emerged from the adjacent closet, hands behind her back while she finished tying the sash of a light-colored chiffon dress. She avoided looking at him, until the moment she couldn’t anymore. In her gaze: the same sadness that he felt. She closed the distance between them, a heavy sigh on her chest. “I don’t know how to say goodbye…” 

As always when his focus lapsed, he remembered the man under the tree. The service he’d asked. How hard Cassian had had to fight his own instincts. When what they screamed for him to do was get himself, somehow, in front of the gun in his own hand; put himself between the other man and his own aim.

Cassian looked at Jyn and didn’t know which feeling was right and which to fight.

At last, he touched her cheek. “Thank you,” he said with the intensity of impossible lives.

She put a hand over his, glassy eyes looking at him like she wanted to imprint on his image. “Take care of yourself, Mr Andor, wherever you’re going.” 

_You are not theirs. Let yourself navigate. Swim._ “And you,” he said.

She opened the door. He stepped through. He didn’t look back. He heard it close behind him.  
  


> A dissociation. He was in London in a garret studio. Like a code, the scholar was teaching him an ancient poem: _Full fathom five thy father lies; of his bones are coral made; those are pearls that were his eyes: nothing of him that doth fade but doth suffer a sea-change into something rich and strange_

  
Aeons spun the stars above him. There was nothing—no knowledge, no instinct, no thought; just stars and sea and this body he was in, stuck utterly in place.

He couldn’t rationalize or justify. He would never try. There was no other way to move. Cassian turned around, crossed back to her door, and raised his hand to knock.

It opened before he had a chance. Jyn was clutching something to her chest on the other side, nearly colliding with him amidst a surprised exclamation. “Cassian!” She slung her arms around his neck instantly. “I can’t. I _can’t_ —” 

He caught her in his arms in the same breath, desperately kissing her face. “Me too… Jyn, Jyn…”

They parted just enough to look at each other; no plan, no clue, knowing this was chaos, also knowing they weren’t going back.

“Come on,” he breathed, taking her hand. “Let’s get somewhere away from here.”

Her face transformed at his words, suddenly so full of life, glowing, _hopeful._ She tightened her grip in his palm and started running. Running and laughing. Two improbable things to punctuate their time together, and yet it felt as if everything was falling back into place. 

_When you’re falling  
_ _One step at a time  
_ _Find whatever you can control  
_ _One step…_

Cassian saw the crewmen ahead and skidded to a halt behind a corner, bringing Jyn around against himself. The men walked by without a look at them. Jyn and Cassian panted for breath, hearts thudding, but where they belonged: pressed to each other.

They wanted neutral ground, away from likely acquaintance. “Second class deck, down those stairs,” Cassian whispered in her ear. In their respective states of dress, they’d both fit, in the middle. Jyn nodded against his chest, her arms linked around him inside the warmth of his jacket. His hands roamed her back— felt the laces of her dress loose in his palms. He stripped off his jacket and put it around her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Let’s go?”

She reached for his hand again, like she needed it to walk, or to breathe. “I’m with you.” 

A white and red linoleum led them to a staircase, going all the way to F-Deck. The night was still young, and there were even more people taking the air in second class than there had been in first. (Stuffier cabins and less overpriced hats?) Jyn kept going down the stairs, leading the way with a mischievous smile, possibly to some places that weren’t meant for passengers. 

“Let’s see what’s over there,” she said, tugging at his hand. He followed at once. 

The next hatch door had them stepping into what looked like the cargo hold. Crates, baggages, and various goods piled up all around. The air was freezing cold, turning their breaths into small clouds. Jyn stepped closer to him, curled around his arm, but she didn’t turn back. He put his arm around her, hugging her to his side. Satisfied there were no guards nor anyone else, they stepped forward together.

Jyn’s warmth against him eased the cold. But even there, Cassian felt numb. The _massiveness_ of the room, shaming the first class hall… Had he ever been under a ceiling this vast? And it was on a _boat._ Then, the sheer density of _possession_ on display… cases stacked higher and made more expensively than houses he’d known; the wealth he knew was within… Again, not a surprise, but _so much_ of it, like its own silent city or graveyard. Overlays passed his eyes of what else all this could be used for, and never would be.

Meaningless shapes had become monuments to their divided world. A full steppe of _civilization_ it illustrated in a way, passive yet suddenly more tangible than he’d thought could still move him—

“Oh, look at that!” Jyn pointed out, amused. Cassian snapped his attention to her discovery: a brand new automobile. He pushed down the acid taste in his mouth (how helpful that machine could be in places he knew, how useless it was likely to remain instead) and switched mindsets. Look, just what they needed: shelter. He hugged Jyn, for his own feelings as much as hers, and they started toward it.

He prepared to battle the locks. Thank goodness, Jyn put her hand to it first, and it wasn’t locked at all. The smile she shot him brought his mind back from its caverns. He focused on _her._ It worked: his smile was real as he exaggeratedly offered his hand for her to step up inside.

“Thank you,” she said with a tease in her voice. She settled on the back seat with natural grace, looking at him expectantly. He hoisted himself in, pulled the door closed, and sat beside her, arms already seeking her again. Jyn scooped closer, her hands on him, and a soft smile on her lips. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and her attention trailed down to his mouth. He held her close and bent to kiss her.

“Cassian…” she whispered to him, “when the ship docks, I’ll get off with you.”

…He froze.

That was the path they’d both stepped on when they left her suite. But… He felt like a traitor or a hypocrite, but he couldn’t _not_ sit back, brow aching with a frown, and turn to face what might be the truth. “…I… don’t think you know what you’re offering. How _can_ you know, when I haven’t told you? I don’t know if I… know how…”

He saw the worry in her eyes, the way her hands pressed him to stay close, the way her voice almost faltered when she said: “It’s okay… You can tell me anything…” 

_But it’s too much, it’s too big, cómo… dónde…_

“Do you not want me to come?” Jyn asked, paler than the minute before. 

He kissed her hand, holding on to it for his life. “I want you to so much. But…" _Feelings aren’t enough_ "I also want ‘coming with me’ to mean… not what it _will_. I mean—”

He closed his eyes, switched minds, switched Cassians. “Okay. To start with the obvious. I don’t have money. I know you don’t care, like that, but… money isn’t just _money._ You know? It… can be freedom. Safety. Eating enough, eating _well_ enough; being able to rest when you’re tired, getting warm when it’s cold, getting better when you’re sick… I’ve lived on the streets. It’s not what I want for _anyone._

“And…” _Ouch, ow, ow, do I have to…?_ He sought her eyes with his, not knowing if his hardened or pled with her. “I have to say what I _don’t feel,_ okay? I just… have to say it.” _You can’t navigate your life by feelings._ “…You… are… young—er, than me. I’m your… We’ve known each other _four days._ I don’t know if your feelings will change, or mine, but if they _did…_ I don’t know what you’d come to think of me for changing your whole life this way. I just know what _I’d_ think of me.”

It took her a moment to reply, not because she searched her feelings for an answer, but because she clearly feared he wouldn’t take her words seriously. 

“I don’t have that many choices in life,” Jyn said carefully, putting weight behind each word. “So maybe… maybe it looks like I’m inconsiderate or stupid to you… but it doesn’t change how little I can choose. And if I stay here, if I marry him, I’ll never escape. And those feelings… it’s all I have, so it has to be enough. It _has_ to be enough for me, because if not, I don’t get a choice at all. If you don’t think you can love me—” 

_I already love you._ Could he ever have the right to say that? 

She straightened a little, fastening a silver chain around her neck she hadn’t been wearing before. Not the type of expensive jewelry she was used to wear. A single pendant made of a crystal of some sort, translucent, not even shaped. It looked of no value, but the way her fingers held it against her heart told him otherwise. 

“I’m sure it seems ridiculous to a man,” she pursued, looking back at him, “and four days probably means nothing to you, I understand that. But I never had four days. I never had a choice and I know—” She cut herself, forcing the words to slow down despite her sudden passion. (How many times had she been told _don’t raise your voice, don’t make a scene, don’t be hysterical—_ That fire inside her couldn’t be tamed.) “I _know_ … that I… _don’t know_ what it’s like to be hungry… I’ve never had your life, but I can work. I can make my own money. I want to become a nurse. I’m not stupid, I know I can learn. I can take care of you when you’re sick. I can have my own life but… I want it to be with you.” 

He looked at her, captivated. The color in her face, the look in her eyes… When he’d first seen her on the railing… Her face was entirely different. This was the opposite of that. She wasn’t happy (of course not) but she had ferocious, radiant, resilient _hope._

_But… oh can’t it be enough…_

He tore his eyes from her face, his alight, admiring smile falling. He put a hand over his eyes, looking for that other self, again. He finally breathed and sat up. “You are brilliant. But _I’m_ …" _ow_ "…I’m sorry. There’s the last thing I haven’t told you.”

He crossed his ankle over his knee to strip off his boot. He removed the wad of parchments and handed them to her. They’d tell her nothing, all in another language with images barely recognizable if you didn’t already know—but he needed her to see. See everything.

She carefully looked, holding the precious papers in her small hands, questions starting to spin under her head. “What is it?” 

“Who I really am." Cassian's body braced to attention while _he_ worked from falling away. “You remember, the Colonel, at dinner. My country and others around it, that part of the world, has been fighting for freedom. Two years ago, we began open revolution. Since then, I’ve been in London, finding people, working with them, like I said, but not just artists: political refugees, veterans, sympathizers; getting support—getting funds.

“And, _that._ That’s information about opposition resources, methods, leadership… It might save a lot of lives.

“This will mean nothing to most of the people on this ship. But all it takes is the wrong person. So I hide from everyone.

“I’m not going back to help my sister. I don’t have one. I’m going back for the war. That’s what staying with me means. Going into war.”

“Are you going to fight?” Jyn asked, frozen, as if she hadn’t heard _anything else_ of what he’d just said.

“I go where they send me,” he said. “Wherever I can help.”

“But you can’t die, Cassian. You can’t!” She actually _punched_ his shoulder. “You can’t die.” 

He lifted his hand, aiming to put it over hers. It ended up being over the scar. “I had to tell you,” he said insufficiently, feeling sick.

Jyn folded over, head on his chest, and put her other arm around him. She stayed silent, private to her thoughts, but her body was desperate to hold him. There was nothing that could keep him from holding her, back. Finally, she whispered with a teary voice: “I want to stay with you forever.”

He squeezed her tight and kissed her head.

“I have an idea,” he said at long last. Not sure that he did, but he _needed_ one. For both of them.

“Is it a good one?” she timidly asked. 

“Mierda, I hope so.” He rested his lips another moment on her hair. He wasn’t used to speaking on such subjects without already knowing what he’d say. Moment of truth. “You _should_ become a nurse. You’ll be wonderful. I can see it. I can see… you’d handle it. All of it. Even if things went the worst way. You’d suffer and then get back up and find your next choice. Not like if these people kept you caged and never stopped killing you from inside out. You can’t be their parrot because you’re a phoenix.

“So, _yes._ Come off the boat with me. We’ll help each other both get on our ways. But… don’t bind yourself to mine, yet. First see it for yourself. Build the start of yours. When you’ve more than one choice, then” _(we’ll find each other again and)_ “you’ll tell me and we’ll decide. …What do you think?”

Jyn straightened up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She placed his papers back into his care and he watched her as she took off the pricey diamond from her left finger, and placed the ring into his hands, too. “I think you just became richer, Mr Andor. I hope it can help in your fight for freedom.” 

He ached as he raised his eyes back to hers. Was this her answer? What _was_ it?

⁂ 

The wooden deck had become slippery, covered in thin layers of ice in the humid cold of the night. Jyn didn’t let go of Cassian’s hand, hurrying him along as they stumbled under the starry sky. She turned to him and smiled, tasting hope for the first time since she could remember. Hope and terror, tightly mixed together. At what she’d done and said, at what she’d planned on doing, at the fear of losing him, of not being good enough to have or to keep him. But going back made no sense, now. 

Jyn wasn’t a child anymore; the tales of her father couldn’t protect her any longer and staying out in the cold darkness would kill her.

She couldn’t live with herself knowing that she’d let her chance slip away. She had to _try_ , she had to fight for what she wanted. 

“Will you teach me how to fight?” she asked, pressed against him with little notion of personal space or _proper lady-like conduct_. 

A ripple went through him, as quickly gone. “Of course,” he said. “We could start with self-defense.”

Jyn agreed and pushed on her toes to reach his lips. He was still subdued from their talk—guilty and uncertain; packet of parchment back in his boot, diamond ring reluctantly in his breast pocket. He remained incredibly hard to read, but was not hard any more (for her) to _feel._ And his uncertainty was eased enfolding her in his arms and returning the kiss, completely. She lost her breath into it, giving all of herself to me. 

_It’ll be alright. This is the right choice. This is what I have to do._

“I won’t let us end badly,” Jyn whispered. “I won’t lose you.”

Somewhere over their heads, Jyn distractly heard the ringing of a bell.

Cassian held her still more tightly. He whispered, “I want to keep you, too.”

(‘Want’. Not the same as _would._ But clearly he’d hang on while they did. That was enough right now.)

He shook himself. “Did you want to start now?” he murmured into her hair, finding some lightness again. “There’s room on the deck for some throws. Can teach you how to use someone bigger’s height against them.”

Jyn had no chance to respond. 

Her body warned her before her mind had any time to process the disruption. A tremor under her feet. A sound. So loud. Deafening. 

She and Cassian grabbed at each other and braced themselves against falling. She wanted to figure out what was happening _now, here,_ but her mind was stuck however many days and hours ago, staring down past her own feet at the black vortex of water.

It all came to her at once—the terrible screams of wrenching metal— _the_ **_ship_ ** _was screaming_ —and the deck buckling, in its throes—a split-second before a boulder smashed down right beside them.

Jyn was pulling Cassian clear as he threw up his arm to shield her; and so they moved as one away from the rail, and the _wall_ suddenly beside it. Materialised out of the dark like a titan from the abyss, it had thrown a boulder onto them, and started to throw more.

Not a wall. Not boulders. _Ice._ A sheer cliff-face of ice. The things falling on them were chunks of it. The ship kept screaming as it scraped the starboard side.

They both stared, petrified, while their brains tried to wrap around the notion of that gigantic ghost out of the maelstrom. _Iceberg,_ the word occurred to her, almost tediously. There should be a word more vast and _living._ Alive like a monster from an ancient tale.

Then it was gone. —No. _They_ were gone—they were past. They’d passed it. It diminished into the darkness behind them and the ship was clear. Yet the haunted feeling remained. 

“It was so close,” Jyn said, her grip on Cassian now almost trembling. 

His hands were suddenly steady on her. She almost wished they shook, instead of the new, strange set of his spine and look in his eyes. Was this what he looked like… in… (war?) He hugged her close to him again but also turned to scan the deck and what could be seen of the command level. 

“Do you think it’ll be alright?” she asked in dismay. 

“If we missed it, why did we shake like that? And the sound…” His arm tightened on her, then shifted to twine instead with her arm and grasp her hand. “Let’s find some crew. See what they’re doing.”

 _Not ‘ask them’. ‘See’._ A simple word choice sweeping hierarchy away. A reflection of the sudden dissolution of worldly order. With the shudder of the ship, Jyn’s world seemed to have slipped, too. And not like when she decided to step through the door back to Cassian. This was something else… beyond her. Beyond him, beyond them both.  
  


⁂ 

They found a staircase connecting to the upper portion of the deck, closer to the command bridge. Walking among the few curious souls that had been drawn outside by the commotion, Jyn squeezed Cassian's hand to direct his attention to the left. A group of four men, including one displaying the rank of Captain, walked past them. They were in a hurry and Cassian could only catch part of their conversation. It didn’t seem encouraging. (... ‘already under water’...) 

Jyn shared the feeling, as she said: “It sounds serious…” 

Cassian didn’t try to hide his frown, now. He could feel his own shift in posture, movement, (identity) everything. He knew it was only heightening the sense of danger for Jyn. He hated that, but he trusted her to bear with it while he tried to come to grips with any of this.

“Maybe I should… go back,” she said in the tiniest voice. “If there’s an emergency, I have to make sure Maia knows what to do…” 

La Madre, she had a friend… had he even known? “I’m going to try to find out more,” he said. “Meet back over there?”

“No, we should stay together,” Jyn frowned. He rethought and nodded. There were risks and benefits both ways. Not getting separated broke the tie. Likewise, he made sure they were always touching, his hand to her arm or back if not joined with hers, as they navigated the crowding deck.

Walking back to her cabin, a few hours after she’d led him there, felt like a fever dream. An unusual agitation was definitely present on board but when Jyn opened the door, probably anticipating to find her suite like she’d left her, they had the awful surprise to be greeted by a full committee. Jyn stopped dead in her tracks, holding Cassian’s hand even harder, and waited for the first blow like a convict. 

“Not to say that I’m surprised,” Krennic senior flatly commented, a drink in his hand, “but I had higher hopes for you.” 

“This _has_ to be a joke,” Callan sneered, taking a step towards Jyn and grabbing her arm roughly.

Cassian instantly had Callan’s wrist. He twisted, broke the other man’s grip, and dropped Call’s arm as fast as he’d seized it. If all he had now was violence… so be it. Too much was at stake. With or without the rest of the ship.

Outrage painted the man’s face with a menacing frown. Callan seemingly didn’t know what to do about Cassian, his attention snapping back on Jyn. Easier target. “You spent the evening with _him?_ Have you lost your goddamn mind? You want to end up on the streets, is that what you want? How dare you—”

Callan yanked her arm again, trying to drag her with him—to which Jyn’s angry response was to groan: “Let me go!”—and Cassian’s was to strike Callan in the throat.

Callan released Jyn to gasp and clutch at his windpipe. He’d be fine in a moment. Cassian hadn’t aimed to kill.

“Touch her again,” Cassian growled.

The look in Callan’s eyes… He suddenly understood that Cassian could _hurt him._

Cleverer than his son, Orson had indubitably known that for a fact. Thus, he'd already acted. They just wouldn’t see it for another ten seconds.

“Something serious happened,” Jyn tried to interject, while no one truly listened to her. “There was this iceberg—” 

Then more people were rushing inside the suite, no doubt in response to the Krennics’ inquiry. Cassian didn’t move while he inwardly reeled against the inevitable. He shouldn’t have come. But then they would have seized Jyn. _They_ shouldn’t have come. But that would be abandoning Jyn’s friend. …Okay. They had to. They had. Take whatever comes next. _Multiple fronts. Step by step._

“With due respect,” said a man Cassian remembered as being the Master-at-arms, “I hope it’s bloody important Mr. Krennic. What’s this _urgent_ matter? I see the young lady is here!” 

“She’s here,” Orson stepped in with an entirely different tone, “by some miracle, unharmed, while this man forcibly tried to take advantage of her. Have him arrested!” 

“What— no!” Jyn cried. “Don’t you dare! This is not—” 

The second she tried to put herself between Cassian and the rest of the world, Callan caught her wrist and his eyes focused on her like a sharpshooter. “Where’s your ring?” 

Cassian stood neutral and frustrated. It was maddening, knowing exactly how the next moments would unfold and having no better course but to _let them._

“I’m afraid you’ve been used, my dear. You’re so young, we should’ve kept you under better protection. Some men truly have no morals.” 

“This is _absolutely_ not true! You’re so—” 

“Search him,” Orson spat back. He did manage to snatch Jyn away from Cassian’s reach. Anything Cassian did would be used against him—worse: against her. He could only meet her eyes and try to send with his: _play along, we’ll figure it out, it’s not your fault, I’m sorry_

“Listen to me!” Jyn angrily screamed. 

“You’ve done enough already,” Callan said and restrained her movements with both arms. “Come with me.” 

“No! Get off me, you fucking prick!” Now, she was desperate. She tried to escape the iron grip of a man twice her size, while being dragged from the room against her will. She looked at Cassian with a mix of horror and guilt— and he could read his name on her lips.

In some alternate world, Cassian had prioritized better. There, he’d already taught Jyn the moves, so she’d flip Callan over her shoulder to crack his head on the deck. Cassian wished he could spare any time for that world, now. But he couldn’t even afford to feel anything in this one. _I’ll find you,_ he only silently shouted, hoping she could read his lips the same way.

“Is that it?” the man probing Cassian’s pockets finally said. The diamond Jyn had offered him returned into Krennic’s care like a cruel irony. 

“That’s it.” The man surveyed Cassian with a furious disdain. “Remove that filth from my sight.” 

Cassian continued not to resist as hands were put on him. He only held his ground long enough to meet Orson Krennic’s eyes.

“Nunca ganarás,” Cassian told him.

Krennic got the idea. Killers understood each other.

So, it unfolded. Cassian was manhandled through the ship. As he went, he kept his focus fixed everywhere except his own captors. They were just escorts, carving his path through the mounting chaos, which he tried to see and hear and analyze every shred of.

If he could see what was happening belowdecks. In— _to—_ the poorest class was where the truth, at all points in time, was always bared.

But that wasn’t where they took him.  
  


⁂

Jyn stood cornered in her bedroom, the threatening presence of Callan just a few inches away from her. The burning lump in her throat made it hard to breathe. Her arms, tightly crossed over her chest, couldn’t stop her from shaking on her feet. She waited in silence, her panicked mind racing in all directions.  
  
This was all her fault. What was she even thinking? If she’d come back alone… she could’ve warned the young maid and… and _what_? They wouldn’t have let her go, regardless, but at least Cassian wouldn’t be in trouble because of her. _Again_. God, how stupid could she be? And what if the situation was really terrible out there? What if she couldn’t find him back? What if they had to— 

A slap hit her across the face, so hard that her head jolted to the side. Jyn slumped back against the wall, holding her burning cheek, pain spreading to her entire jaw. 

“I can’t believe you would _do_ this,” Call breathed too close to her. “I’ve given you _everything_ , and you— you truly have no shame, just like your father.” 

“Don’t talk about my father!” Jyn said, dark anger rising in her chest. 

“You’re a disgrace, Jyn. I truly hope that you enjoyed your time with that ratbag because it’s the last you’ll ever get. And if you’re determined to act like a slut, don't worry, I’ll make sure to treat you like one!” 

That promise of a life of misery unleashed the words before she could stop herself. “You’re a piece of shit and I’m sure glad _he_ was the one to have my first time—” 

This owed her another slap, causing her to yelp from pain. She’d struck a dangerous nerve. When Callan took another step toward her, her body pleaded to evade by any means necessary. The hatred in his eyes now reached an alarming peak. _You’re so fucking stupid, Jyn_. Too late, now. This was going to hurt.

As a god-sent interruption, someone walked in after a short knock, freezing the scene between the couple. Jyn watched a steward heading towards the closet, pleasantly saying: “Sir, I’ve been told to ask you to please put on your life vests and come up to the boat deck.” 

“Not now!” Callan barked without moving. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Krennic, but it’s Captain’s orders. Now— it’s very cold outside, may I suggest dressing up warmly?” 

“This is _ridiculous_ ,” Callan said, finally taking a step back. Jyn took the opportunity to move as far away from him as possible. 

Oblivious to the evident drama, or uncaring beyond his orders, the steward in black uniform offered Jyn a performative smile. “Not to worry, Miss, I’m sure this is all just a precaution.” 

It didn’t sound like one after seeing that iceberg with her own two eyes… and certainly not knowing what she knew about the lifeboats capacity. Nausea reached her throat. Jyn put a hand around her neck, feeling her mother’s necklace under her palm, trying to combat the rising anxiety. 

Only one thing mattered: she had to find Cassian back. She _had_ to. One way or another. This was her fault, and she needed to fix it. 

“I’m going to get Maia,” she mumbled, rushing to the side room. 

This time, no one stopped her and Jyn almost ran into her friend, who had been nervously waiting in ears’ range all along—as she was often required to. “Are you alright?” Maia mouthed. 

Jyn grabbed her hand. “Put on a life vest, I think it’s really bad.” And as she talked, she was already drafting a million plans to escape Callan’s presence. 

Cassian’s voice danced in the back of her mind. ( _Get off the boat with me. We’ll stick together._ )

She’d just won that future… the lightheaded nonsensical thought, _God, if I sinned, why not just punish me? Stop me but not by doing this to_ **_everyone_ ** _…_

But she rejected that thought just as fast. Her refusal of this cataclysm. Her refusal to abandon hope.

_Yes. Yes, we will. We will survive, we will find that future, I can’t leave without you. I won’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Full fathom five" from _The Tempest_
> 
> "Nunca ganarás" : "You’ll never win"


	6. 15 April 1912

The long promenade looked disturbingly different, now with lifeboats lining the deck ready to be lowered onto the sea. Jyn had trouble grasping the harsh reality of this moment, gazing around like a lost child, her hand so cold where Cassian had been holding it all along. 

Crew members kept running in all directions, blowing whistles, shouting orders, and it was clear to whoever would look into their eyes that no one would be returning to their cabins tonight. The gravity of the situation sunk into her slowly, adding another crushing weight on her shoulders while her heart hammered in her chest. _This is really, really bad._

“For the time being,” a tall man in a perfectly tailored uniform shouted over the raging scream of the steaming chimney, “I should require only women and children!” 

The words hit her like another slap. _What about Cassian?_ She didn’t have time to find a solution. She didn’t have time at all! 

As passengers (all from First Class) started to step into the little white boats hanging above water, the terrible icy wind of the North Atlantic started to penetrate under her skin. Among familiar faces, her glassy eyes caught sight of Maz Kanata. The old woman swallowed by her oversized fur coat extended a hand to her, trying to coax her into cooperation. 

“Come on, child. There's a spot for you right here.” 

Jyn looked at Mrs. Kanata, then around her, lost in a daze of incoherent moments and diluted memories. The voice of her mother, singing for her at night. The smile of her father, leaving the beach, walking with her hand in hand… Jyn took a step back on the deck, ignoring the pressing injunctions of the crew. 

She pushed Maia in front of her instead, directing the young girl toward Mrs. Kanata. 

“Get in the boat,” Jyn urged her.

Maia stepped off the deck and onto the little embarkation. Jyn looked at her with an overwhelming feeling of fear, seeing the shadows of the decisions she hadn't made played out in front of her, knowing there would be no turning back anymore. But she didn't fear the choice. She knew what she had to do, no matter the outcome. 

“Get in the boat, Miss Jyn.”

“Goodbye,” Jyn smiled at them both, wondering if she’d ever get to see them again.

She turned around, pushing people to the side until she could squeeze herself out of the growing crowd. Callan’s iron grip dragged her back. He looked completely out of his mind, eyes glaring in anger, more disheveled than she'd ever seen him. Maybe, for the first time in his life, concerned that all his money and power couldn't secure him a way off the ship. 

Not concerned enough, though, that he would accept the humiliation of losing control over her. 

“Where are you going?” he screamed in her face. “To _him_?! To be a whore to a gutter rat?” 

“I'd rather be his whore than your wife,” Jyn said with cold hatred. And she was both surprised and impressed by the strength of her conviction, unshakeable. 

It gave her the courage she’d lacked all along to fight back. She nudged her knee upward, aiming for the sensitive parts. Callan stumbled back with a pained wailing, freeing her. So fragile of a man, after all. 

Jyn took off without looking back, running away as fast as she could.

⁂ 

Handcuffed to a pipe, failing to escape, Cassian distantly wondered. Was it better or worse that they _hadn’t_ meant this to be a death sentence? They’d just stopped paying attention once they’d shoved him out of their way. Not their problem if they'd pushed him over the rail.

His contortions accomplished nothing. He couldn’t reach anything to pick the lock or break the chain. Last resort fast approaching… but it was _last_ for reasons beyond pain. If it even worked—if he was going to be of adequate use to anyone ( _Jyn_ )—

Jyn. The strength she was finding in herself… the hold of her hand… her stardust eyes… _One thing at a time._ He _definitely_ couldn’t help Jyn if he stayed chained in here. He stopped struggling; slowed his breathing; closed his eyes.

_If nothing else. Say goodbye to Jyn._

He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the thumb of the other.

“Cassian!” The distant scream made him freeze. Only one person on the ship knew his name, and surely enough, he recognized Jyn’s voice shouting from the top of her lungs somewhere down a nearby corridor. “Cassian! Can you hear me? Cassian!” She was moving in the wrong direction, away from him. 

Cassian twisted in the restraints, aiming his voice for the room’s greatest resonance. _“Jyn!”_

“ _Cassian_?” she screamed again, and she sounded closer already. “Where are you?” 

“Officer’s quarters—last door in the hall—” then he kept yelling nonsense, for her to follow.

The next moment, she appeared through the door, her steps awkwardly slowed down by the rising water. It now reached her calves, weighing down the bottom of her dress and coat. She crossed the little cabin and launched herself on him, almost choking him in the process. “I’m sorry!” she frantically said, “I’m so sorry, I’m so stupid! It’s all my fault! Cassian, I’m sorry!” 

He hugged her with his shoulders and neck. He wished he could put his arms around her this last time. “It’s not your fault…! Thank you… for finding me… Jyn, now you gotta go. You gotta get out of here.”

She let go of his neck to look at him, a dark frown between her brows. “No! I’m not going without you!” Jyn surveyed the room quickly and came back to the cuffs, mind racing. “We need the keys or… or… something!” 

“I think the keys walked out in a uniform pocket.” Twisting to direct her: “There might be tools in that cabinet” (because weapons could be tools)…

She nodded and went for the piece of furniture, opening drawers and panels with shaky hands. Some things tumbled to the floor as Jyn pushed them out of the way, documents started floating around her. “There’s nothing in here,” she gasped and moved to the desk. 

Mental whirl. Same assessments. No new options. “Okay,” gritted Cassian, trying to refocus. “Do you see anything I can bite?”

“ _Bite_?” Jyn asked, visibly confused. 

“My hand might fit through if I break my thumb.” The irony of having been good at escaping arrest all these years. He suspected if that method really worked, he would have known so already, but what else—

Another drawer fell from her grasp, hitting the water with a splashing sound. Some colors drained from her face and she pushed herself upright. “No! Hold on, I can figure this out!” She made a move to exit the cabin, but turned back again, “I’m coming back, I swear.” 

Only she, in all this, could give him part of a smile. “I know.”

And she was gone.

With the chain and his legs, he futilely tried again to break the pipe. And wondered if ‘ _I know_ ’ would be the last thing he said to her, and was it a remotely sufficient stand-in for ‘ _I love you’…?_

Minutes went by and water kept rising, numbing his feet. There wasn’t a living soul around, only the sounds of a sinking ship and his breathing to keep him company. Until, fighting her way back through icy water (now reaching her hips), Jyn reappeared on the doorway. She’d lost her coat somewhere on the way. She took a sharp breath, the ends of her hair dripping wet over her soaked dress. 

“I found _this_ ,” she said, lifting a fire axe in front of her.

Cassian swore without realizing. …Yes. Cost-benefit: this was their best bet. He just worried, less for himself as for _her._ How would she live with it if she accidentally—

_You’ll get back up._

_I believe you._

“Yeah.” Creaking metal-on-metal, he pulled the chain taut, hands and body far away as he could go. “Ready when you are.”

Jyn had a moment of hesitation. Her fingers gripped the handle firmly, knuckles turning white around the wood. She eyed the chain like a venomous snake. “Tell me it’ll work,” she whispered. 

“It will.” One way or another. “It’ll work. …Move your hands farther apart, one closer to the blade. Good... Take a deep breath. Swing when you exhale.” He started mentally counting backwards in three languages. “Ready.”

Determination took over her apprehension. She clenched her jaws and swung the axe down with surprising strength.

Metal rang the room. Cassian fell backwards into the water. For a moment he couldn’t tell, through the shocking cold, whether he was in pain or not—whether he still had hands. Then he surged, gasping, into the air.

The chain hung in halves from the cuffs on his unharmed wrists. Cassian let fly another curse; this one of victory. He cut through the water to catch Jyn in his arms and kiss every inch of her face. Jyn let go of her providential axe and laughed, kissing him back in euphoria.

He disconnected to meet her eyes with utter adoration. _You did it. You saved me._ Whatever came next, that would never not have happened. May he have time to say it and everything else to her. Right now— “Let’s get outta here.”

She grabbed his hand and hurried them to the door. One look towards the end of the corridor and Cassian stopped her. “The exit is this way,” she said, pointing to a staircase now engulfed into a vortex of water. Inoperable. 

“Ship’s tilting this way,” he said. “Let’s go that way.” Their fingers tightened together as they swam-ran to higher ground.

The white walls had never seemed more oppressing, every single turn they took looking exactly the same. While they frantically searched for a way to reach the upper decks, they, at least, started to run through drier sections of the ship.

“Wait, wait,” Jyn said, tugging at his arm. “This way!” She grabbed the doorknob under a metal plate reading ‘service stairs’. Met with resistance, she pushed and grunted and slammed her palm on the door. “I should have kept the axe.” He added his shoulder beside her. The door wasn’t of strong facture and gave way. Jyn tumbled forwards, catching herself on a set of stairs. Cassian helped her up. They kept climbing. 

Voices grew louder as they did. Jyn briefly looked at him and hurried up. Finally, they set foot on a crowded deck and were swept into the middle of a chaotic atmosphere. None of the people surrounding them seemed to know where to go, or what to do. Jyn pressed closer to his side. She wrapped her arms around his bicep, fighting not to get separated.

“Cassian,” she said, not particularly because she wanted an answer. 

His arm bent to enfold her hands. “We stick together,” he said, also not about the words.

They’d reached a bigger crowd, but it quickly became static, trapping them in a sea of confused and terrified passengers. Cassian’s hand closed tightest yet on Jyn’s as he expertly wound them through. Or tried to. The crowd was so dense (and so frightened) they couldn’t navigate. They got just far enough to see it:

They were on the final deck between third class and the rest of the ship. Across that border, someone had closed a floor-to-ceiling grate. Everyone in steerage was locked in.

“What are they doing?” Jyn gasped, trying to peer above shoulders. “Why is it closed?” 

Cassian answered with a familiar flatness. “Crowd control, I guess.” (Said so tightly.) “Make sure the upper-class passengers get into lifeboats first, then let the rest of us out gradually. So they’re not swamped with panicked people all at once.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, thoughts spinning fast. “Oh God… Cassian… There aren’t enough boats for everyone. Not by half! If we can’t get up now, there won’t be any left!” 

Cassian’s vision blacked out. He didn’t lose consciousness—he couldn’t afford to—and it wasn’t actually a surprise, was it? No. He’d just been attempting to give them the benefit of the doubt. When he’d already known.

_(Why that grate existed in the first place)_

_They want us to die._

To Hell with them. They were officers, yes, but he would bet few if any of them had seen ground combat. If that was the situation they were creating here, that put them in _his_ territory, not theirs.

He needed to get higher than the crowd. There: a corner pipe over a rail. He started them that way. To his astonishment, Jyn let go of his hand. She slipped between bodies more efficiently than they could do together, her small frame making its way toward the gate. Cassian wasted an instant staring after her, heart in his throat—but whatever she was going to do, he’d best use the same time. He threaded back in the other direction. He cleared the crowd and levered up, feet on rail, grabbing the pipe, suspended to see over everyone’s heads.

Along with all else, he could see Jyn. She faced off front, hands around the metal barres, and shouted at the steward standing on the other side of the gate. “You have no right keeping us down here! Open that bloody gate!” She slammed her palms against it. “Open it! Who do you think you are? There are children down here, for God’s sake!” 

Mierda, joder… he loved her so much. _She has to get through this. She will._

Her shouting assertively in English actually made the steward turn. But what could the man say? Cassian knew on sight: the man was doing what he considered his duty. More than that: what he really believed to be best. He was down here with them, after all, not evacuating. Probably clinging to the idea that if not everyone could survive, then he was saving those who _could._

…and he was right. It was just the hideous selection process being left to mere men…

If, _if,_ one accepted the situation and left it. That wasn’t the way to survive. _Other times: fuck the devil you know._

Cassian grabbed the broken chain on his wrist. Brandished like a whip, he slammed it into the pipe over his head. The _clang_ (with a stab of guilt) caused some new alarmed screams. It also caused a gasp that Cassian bellowed into as loud as he could. _“_ **_¡Escuchad! Ascolta! Listen!_ ** _”_

Even when people seemed wholly unruly, they can instinctively hope for _someone_ to be in charge. There was a lull in enough people that others kept catching on in an outward ripple. Cassian shouted: “I know how to break the gate! If you help me! But _do not run to the main deck!_ There aren’t enough lifeboats! It’s why they caged us! They won’t give them to _us!_ So find your own! There are other things that float! Find _wood_ —tables, doors, bed boards...! Get them on deck, throw them overboard, as much as you can, into the water! Otherwise we all die fighting for boats! Understand?”

The new ripple that passed through the crowd _might_ have been understanding, might have been agreement, translating for each other… He just had to hope. “That!” He pointed over everyone’s heads to a long bench along the opposite wall. “Get it to the gate!”

Messily, confusedly, the bench went forward. Cassian jumped down to join it. The crowd had gained its own momentum. He got there as they were about to ram the gate head on. He managed to stop them and direct until they’d flipped the bench and tilted it diagonally, sticking one protruding end under the second-to-bottommost crossbar. With the exponential might only many working together could have, they used the bench as a lever. Others had grabbed anything else they could and were bludgeoning the lock itself—proving again the most driving conviction of Cassian’s life: even in worst moments, most people would help each other.

Simultaneously: the lock cracked and the gate lifted. People were already ducking and crawling under as a few, including Cassian, continued to pry it up, then wedged the bench to hold it. Cassian shouted his warning again not to go to the deck but strip the ship for wood. He could only hope, again and again, that any listened or understood.

At last, with the panic he could resist in everything else, he let himself look for Jyn.

⁂ 

The crowd flowed past them. Jyn extended an arm to get hold of Cassian again, feeling like she needed the physical reassurance to function through increasingly challenging times. 

Up to this very moment, she’d never stopped to think about something else than rescuing _Cassian_ . She didn't know how she’d do it. She simply knew that she needed to find him and for them to get into a lifeboat, one way or another. And she _knew_ not everybody would be able to, she knew— but his strategy wouldn’t keep them alive. It would save them from drowning, surely, but they would freeze to death regardless. 

They had to try. She would forcibly drag him up to the main deck if she had to.

Right before she could grab his hand, a sobbing cry caught her attention. In the middle of the corridor, left behind by the crowd, a little girl stood all alone. She had tears streaming down her face as she cried out for someone who wasn’t there anymore.

If this was a sign from God telling her she’d been plagued with unforgivable selfishness, Jyn wasn’t amused. She went back— how could she have not? She kneeled in front of the child, who couldn’t be older than five, and squeezed her hands gently. “Did you lose your family? Don’t cry, it’s going to be okay, sweetie.” 

Cassian appeared at her shoulder. In another slip between realities, he was no longer that commander. _He_ was back, with her, for her… waiting to follow _her_ lead.

Jyn looked up and said: “We can’t leave her here.” Although she didn’t know how she could take charge of someone else’s child… in such situation… but she found the support she needed in his eyes. 

Cassian nodded. “ _She_ needs one of those boats. They can’t turn her away.”

“Let’s make sure,” she said and focused again on the girl. “My name is Jyn. This is my friend Cassian. What’s yours?” 

“Pendra,” she sniffed, her big dark eyes going back and forth between the two of them. 

“That’s a pretty name.” Jyn managed a sincere smile, hoping to reassure her. “You can’t stay here all alone. We’re going to make sure you’re alright, okay?” 

Jyn opened her arms as an invitation and it didn’t take much more for the little girl to take refuge in it. Heartbreaking, she _didn’t_ ask after any parent. Like she already knew they weren’t coming back. Maybe, short of a miracle, she would be reunited with someone after tonight. Deep down, Jyn already hurt for her, knowing what it felt like to be left an orphan at such a young age. And even she never had to overcome such a traumatic disaster on top of the long-lasting grief. 

Carrying Pendra, when much-taller, much-stronger Cassian was right there available, wasn’t her brightest idea but Jyn found herself unable to let go. Not now. Not until safety. 

If safety could even be reached— 

Amidst the rumbling chaos, they finally made it back to the main deck, which was progress anyhow (where Jyn could try for desperate measures). 

A plan slowly formed in the back of her mind, imprecise and dicey, even while short trembling arms held around her neck. The screams and anguish filling the deafening atmosphere had Pendra crying again. Jyn made no attempt to soothe her this time, pressed by time and circumstances. 

“Do you see any boat?” she asked Cassian. Someone ran in between them, momentarily forcing them apart. She frowned, anxious of losing him in the crowd, but he closed in the next moment and put a hand on her back. Then she saw— “Oh, wait, wait! Colonel—” 

Colonel Astor turned around, stopping his gentlemen's party with him. They were all dressed up in coats and hats, wearing or carrying life vests with them, although the man didn’t seem inclined to put it on. He looked at Jyn with a saddened gaze, then his attention fell on Cassian and his surprise was evident enough. 

She didn’t want to waste precious time worrying about things that didn’t matter anymore. “Do you know if there’s any boat left?” 

“Not on this side, Miss. But there’s some left this way, I’ve heard, you should hurry.” 

Jyn nodded, “Thank you,” and glanced at Cassian to go the other way around the deck. 

“Wait, Miss. Take it,” the Colonel said, offering his life vest, “for the child.” 

As Jyn put the vest on Pendra, Astor’s eyes turned to Cassian. Once more, Cassian made that worldslip; less now her lover and more a… soldier. It was in the crisp way he faced Astor and said, _“Bendiciones, Coronel.”_

 _“Tú también,”_ said Astor. “If you can help her again.”

Then he was back, _her_ Cassian, kneeling beside her, his arms almost around hers around Pendra. Helping them (doing instead of proclaiming). Until Pendra was fastened in and swept back up into Jyn’s arms. 

The second they started moving again, Jyn pushed Astor out of her mind. She did not wonder about any of the people that she knew on the ship. She did even less wonder about her fiancé—who she couldn’t consider as such anymore. Not since she went back to Cassian that evening. Not since she took off her engagement ring. God, only a few hours ago… It seemed like she’d lived ten lives already. 

If she had to profess her undying love and adoration to someone, it could only be to Cassian.

Who had his arm around her, now, keeping them a unit as they wove through the crowd; making himself her prow to break the waves, her wall so Pendra couldn’t be knocked away, and (perhaps he felt too) combining and so multiplying both their strengths. She needed it. The dreadful emergency surrounding them started to translate into the collective demeanor.

They made their way to the port side, where people pressed themselves around officers screaming orders into the cold night. Immediately, Jyn was squished in the middle of the compact mass of bodies, thankful for Cassian’s protective embrace around her, or she would’ve been swept away. Under their feet, the ship’s unnatural angle only kept on growing, making the threat more real.

“Hold back! Hold back, I say!” a voice roared. “Only women and children!” 

Sudden gunshots made her jump. Pendra cried out in her neck. Everything was falling apart around them. 

“This way, madame! Come through!” 

To her left, a man surrendered his child into the crew’s hands. They placed the young girl into the waiting boat while her father waved at her from the side, speaking wistful words of comfort that didn’t dry her tears. 

Maybe it was her age or the brown braided hair, or maybe the fact that Jyn never had a chance to say goodbye to her own father, that made it so difficult for her to assist to the scene.

It seemed abundantly clear to the man, while he repeated “It’s goodbye just for a little while, stay with mommy and be a good girl,” that he wouldn’t live to see his daughter again. Jyn’s heart shattered to pieces. She couldn’t say goodbye to somebody else. 

She turned to face Cassian, breathing hard through the overwhelming pain in her chest. The idea had solidified in her mind, leaving few doubts and even less remorse. “Take her,” she said, trying to pass Pendra into his arms. “Go with her. They can’t turn you away if you’re her only parent. You have to try!” 

Cassian stared at her. Jyn could _see_ the possibilities pass through his eyes. She only wished she were surprised when he shook his head. “I can’t take someone else’s place. Not without trying…” 

“Trying _what?_ ” She grabbed his arm. “You can’t save everyone. Please, I need you! Let's all get off, _please_ , Cassian. I can’t lose you! You’re all I have!” 

His face was grey. She could feel battle in his mind: _do it for her, but can I live with myself…_ He looked at the father whose sobbing daughter’s lifeboat was being lowered toward the sea. And all the others like them. And those running from below, hopefully salvaging their own rafts, who weren’t even being given the chance to sacrifice themselves for each other.

Then Cassian’s eyes flickered to the western horizon, and Jyn suddenly remembered the papers in his shoe. They couldn’t have survived submersion, which meant anything that could be salvaged of them, now, was only in Cassian’s mind. It felt dirty for Jyn to say, but she knew he was thinking it: if he wouldn’t stay alive for his _own_ sake... how many more endangered children needed that intelligence—

His eyes returned to them. Overturning her world with relief, he put his palm softly on Pendra’s shoulder. “Okay, _niña?_ I’ll take you onto the boat?” As Pendra nodded and put her arms around his neck, it occurred to Jyn that if Cassian was taking a child into his care, it wouldn’t end at the lifeboat. Alright with her. They would all survive together.

Jyn pressed her hands behind him and pushed the pair in front of her. She stayed as close as she could, slowly moving forward. Surrounded by a sea of passengers taller than her, Jyn couldn’t see anything anymore. She kept her eyes on Cassian’s back, heart beating too fast, and heard an officer yelling at the crowd again. He pointed a handgun in the air and, for an instant, she feared that he would start shooting at them. 

But then Cassian was allowed to pass through. Jyn exhaled from unfathomable relief, seeing an end to that nightmare. He stepped over the ledge of a lifeboat, Pendra cradled to his chest. They were _safe_. It would be alright. 

Jyn waited her turn, right behind the two of them. The deckhand posted to the right of a davit looked at her. Jyn gathered her dress in one hand to climb into surety— 

Someone dragged her away at that exact moment. 

She lost sight of Cassian and almost fell backward. Amidst the panic of the scene, she wondered if another passenger had wanted to take her place. The pressure around her arm didn’t ease out, and didn’t seem like a random attempt at cutting in. 

When she finally managed to turn around, she gasped from shock. 

“Not so fast,” Orson Krennic said. “You made that choice, Jyn. Now you get the consequences.” 

“Let me go!” she argued frantically, hoping that she could still reach Cassian in time. 

“You and I are going to go down together, dear. If you can’t make a decent wife, you’re more useful to my son being dead.” The man smiled at her, cold-hearted as ever. “See, I always win, one way or another.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merrynotes:
> 
> That scenario of a crowd looking for someone to take charge this way is inspired by Asimov’s _The Caves of Steel._
> 
> Dislocating your thumb doesn't help you get out of handcuffs, since the widest part of the hand is the bone structure entirely below the thumb. A thing I choose to ignore in this story but impacts viewing e.g. news: being basically a cog, locking a cuff prevents it from rotating in one direction, so it can't open, but nothing prevents it from continuing to rotate in the other direction, thus getting tighter and tighter (e.g. from struggle). Best bet is, if any space is left when they're put on, while they're at their loosest, to get your thumb tight inside your palm and under the cuff.
> 
> PS Def. one of those times my search history and fear of getting flagged on some gov't watchlist spiked from researching a show I was in/directing.


	7. 15 April 1912 (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of your most popular questions, finally answered. We hope they live up to imagination. Thank you for hanging in there with us! (One more to go!)

Like an amputation, Jyn was gone from his side. Cassian’s head whipped to see Orson chingadera Krennic yanking her savagely by the arm.

Cassian’s vision exploded in bruises. His mind spun. (Options, projections—) He looked at each of his fellow passengers, snap profiling faster than he ever had before.

Toward the end of the lifeboat, one passenger was neither sobbing nor blank with shock. He spotted her as she took off the blanket they’d given her to wrap around someone else. By the time he’d scanned the rest and came back to her, she’d put her arm around another woman and was holding the hand of one more, murmuring support.

Cassian wrapped his arms around Pendra. She was trembling. Picking her up, he slipped between the rest of them. He set Pendra down and seized the kind woman’s hand. As she looked at him in astonishment, he said, “This is Pendra. Will you make sure she’s all right?”

She stared at him. He reran his assessments up close. _(Young widow, not by this but before, not born to hard work but adapting to it, acceptant, sad, desiring to help and care for others than herself._ —Some of which he was sure, some what he hoped and needed her to be.)

The woman looked at Pendra. Pendra was staring, transfixed by the golden ring on the same chain as a silver locket against the woman’s black clothes. The child looked then into the woman’s eyes, and they searched each other.

The woman held out her hand (with its new callouses, still gentle). Pendra took it. Woman put her arm around child and Pendra melted to her. Her shivering subsided.

The woman said to both of them, “Yes. Pendra. I promise.”

Cassian pressed Pendra’s shoulder one last time. _(Perdóname.)_ He cut back through the passengers, timed it out, and dove off the lowering lifeboat over the rail of a deck.

He _almost_ cleared the rail. He rolled and braced against the impact. He allowed a few seconds for his head to stop spinning. He got to his feet, holding his ribs, shaking off a limp _(there’s no time, go go go)_ , and started toward the nearest stairwell.

_Gotta find Jyn._

_Climb. Climb._

⁂

  
“What did I miss with you that you never learned to behave yourself?” Krennic snapped. “Always such a pain, just like your damn mother.”

Jyn pushed back, trying to break free of the man’s grasp. Anger and desperation made it harder to think efficiently. “I _hate_ you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man almost dragged her off the floor to force her into a nearby corridor, “we’ve been playing this game long enough, dear. I should’ve gotten rid of you years ago. I only kept you around for Galen’s mines, but that’s nothing a good notary cannot arrange!”

Not that it was fresh news; Jyn had always known that Orson Krennic had no real affection for her, but hearing it aloud… so devoid of guilt… horrified her on a whole other level. Like ultimate treason. The confirmation that she was nothing but an asset to trade. That her life had _no value_ other than to serve the Krennics’ agenda.

_It’s not true. I’m not theirs._

Jyn elbowed the man in the ribs. He grunted from pain and stumbled with her. She grabbed the closest thing she could reach: a door frame, and tried to pull herself free once again. Through all of her struggle, on a ship full of people, not a single soul blinked twice or stopped to help her. She was _invisible_. Always left alone.

Krennic had stolen her life away. And now he had taken Cassian away, too.

Rage took over and she slammed her elbow into the man’s face. She must have done some damages here. Retaliation came quicker than she anticipated. He pushed her into a wall, her head hitting the hard obstacle with a painful ringing.

“You little c—”

He seemed to finish the word with a sound effect. How had he vocalised that toothbreaking _'_ _clock'?_

Orson Krennic fell over, to reveal Cassian standing behind him, shaking Krennic’s blood from his knuckles.

Relief didn’t have time to settle before being knocked over by despair. “No!” Jyn cried out, “You’re supposed to be on a boat! You’re supposed—” She staggered to her feet, falling into his arms the next second. “You’re supposed to be safe. Cassian, why are you here? Why? This is so stupid! Why didn’t you leave— ” She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or kiss him.

He hung onto her, face pressed to her hair. She felt him cringe when she pressed his ribs, and how he was favouring one side over the other. He still held her as strongly as before. “You wouldn’t leave without me. Don’t ask me to leave without you. I love you.”

Cry. She was about to cry.

“How _touching_ ,” Krennic sneered, spitting blood. Between Jyn breaking his nose and Cassian his mouth, his outward bloodiness finally reflected his deeds. It was almost a relief. “Don’t worry, no one is leaving—” And suddenly had a gun pointed at them.

She couldn't suppress the gasping sound of outrage leaving her. Cassian released her and they both turned to face Krennic.

“You two wish to be together that much, very well— together at the bottom of the ocean.”

Jyn could see Cassian’s eyes flickering. Whatever he was trying to figure out, whatever he was planning, it couldn’t possibly work. She shook her head and stepped in front of him, hands up in the air.

“So you’re just going to shoot me?” she asked, and she had to admit a part of her still couldn’t believe it. A stupid part. “What for? We’re never going to see another day. There’s no boat left even if we tried.”

“He’d rather do it himself,” said Cassian. Who took her by surprise with: “Even at the expense of hearing what we saw. The last news he’ll ever hear about his son.”

Krennic’s lips curled back in a snarl, showing his bloodied teeth. “Nice try. I got him into a boat myself.”

He took aim at Cassian—the only obstacle in his mind to his then shooting Jyn. ’Cause Jyn herself could never give him such trouble, right…? A new furied terror ran down her spine. Out of ideas and pressed by time, Jyn lunged at Krennic. She grabbed for his hand. Not the most brilliant impulse, she had to admit. But she wouldn’t go down again for doing nothing.

The gun fired.

Jyn felt something rip out of her that might have been a scream. If Cassian was now lying dead behind her, she would send Orson fucking Krennic with him in the most agonising way possible. She seized the man’s wrist and slammed and twisted it, with a brutality she wished she could have found in herself years ago. Krennic grappled with her.

Cassian’s arm came down from the air. The broken handcuff chain was now wrapped around his fist. It hit the back of Krennic’s neck. The man stumbled, exposing his face, and Cassian punched him in it. Once, twice, as Jyn pinned his arm in place; once more.

Finally, Krennic went limp. His fingers released the gun into Jyn’s hand so abruptly, she almost fired it.

She looked up in agonised hope. Cassian looked back like he could possibly be more worried about her than she was about him. —with blood streaming down his arm.

“Cassian,” she gasped, forgetting all about Krennic. “Is it bad? Let me see!”

“Just a graze,” he said. “You broke his aim.” He bent to help her to her feet.

Jyn didn’t know what to do with a gun and forced it into his hands, glad to be clear of it. Meanwhile, she unlaced the sash of her dress and wrapped it around Cassian’s arm a few times.

Cassian looked at the blood on his sleeve, the gun in his hand, and the cuffs on his wrists. He said wrily, “If we do land at a port, they’re going to love me.”

A strangled laugh rasped in her throat. “I can think of worse problems to have,” she said, “let’s go. Let’s get away from him…”

Without waiting for an answer, Jyn reached for Cassian's hand and hurried him along. He glanced once at Krennic but didn’t say a thing. Of course, he’d leave her guardian’s fate to her. She hoped she wouldn’t come to regret not shooting the man on sight. But leaving him to the same tragic fate as everyone else seemed a more suitable act of revenge. She kept them moving. Cassian stuck the gun in his belt.

Running through decks and stairs again, desperation slowly came back to replace the adrenaline of that confrontation. They stopped in a deserted corridor, doors left ajar and luggage on the ground. Catching her breath, Jyn rescued a long wool coat from the chaos and draped it around Cassian’s shoulders. The fit would do. “Put it on. If we end up in the sea, we need…” She didn’t care to finish her sentence and looked for something she could wear herself. She’d learned from her father that conserving body heat was key to survival. Even a wet layer of clothes would do better work than nothing.

Cassian got his arms through the sleeves of the jacket with only a grimace for his shoulder. But he was gazing at it, angrily, by the time Jyn looked up again.

“I told them to make their own rafts,” he said. “I don’t know how much I can lift, now. With this. But we should try.”

“We have to get back up,” Jyn said, “we’ll see what we can find there.” She paused, finally, and pressed a hand to his chest. “Where is Pendra? Is she safe?”

“She’s on the lifeboat,” he said. “With a woman who promised to care for her. At least as good an instant choice as I would have been. Hopefully better.”

“That’s good… And whatever happens, we’re together.”

He covered her hand with his good one. When they lowered their hands, he didn’t let go. Jyn allowed herself another moment to simply… look at him.

She still couldn’t believe that he willingly came back for her, knowing what it meant for himself. She had so many things to say and no words would come out. The look on his face said exactly the same.

What vows could anyone possibly make now? You shouldn’t make a promise without a reasonable expectation you could keep it. And there are things simply not up to mere humans. The one he did make was the same as hers. “Together.”  
  


⁂

  
By the time they stepped outside again, the ship had taken on so much water that the forecastle disappeared under the dark water with a giant wave that swept people away. For those who remained on board, the angle of the sinking ship now made it seem like they were running uphill.

Cassian tightened his hold on Jyn’s hand as they moved toward the stern, following the other hundreds of passengers trying to escape the inevitable. Some had already resorted to jumping into the ocean to hasten the process. Jyn caught sight of it, leaned overboard to watch the struggling swimmers, and turned back to him.

“We have to stay on the ship as long as possible,” she said.

Cassian nodded, eyes sweeping. “The rail.”

(At the back of his mind, wishing he had time for it, he was flooded with admiring Jyn again. How naturally she had snapped into focus, using her knowledge, despite the Hell their surroundings had become. And she did it without training. _She has to survive this She has to become a nurse I wish I hope I get to see it.)_

The crowd was near impossible to navigate. They both jumped down a level to make it further on the deck and Jyn almost disappeared. Mindless of his injuries, Cassian dove forward to catch her. Somewhere nearby, a priest was holding a group of prayers. Pushing forward among screaming people, the last few meters had them practically crawling.

It was such a mind-bending thing to conceive, feeling the stern getting higher and higher under their feet.

Finally, they reached the white rail. Both looped their arms through the bars. Jyn pressed herself into Cassian’s arms, looking around without a sound. He could feel her trembling but she didn’t lament or ask for help. He put his arm around her. He anchored himself again on either side of her hands. His chest was now to her back. When they went down, he’d have to let her go. Until then… however many moments they had left, he’d hold on.

“Cassian…” He felt more than heard her. He bent his head closer to catch her voice. “This is where we first met.”

Dissociated from the horror, he let out a surprised laugh. How many lives ago… “You were standing at the abyss and made a joke. I was done for.”

She laughed through a painful sob. “I’m so glad it was you.”

He kissed her hair, her temple. “I love you.”

She turned her head to the side. “I love you, Cassian.”

Of all things to suddenly flood his mind, it was the lie. The picture he’d drawn for himself, in detail, so when he had to tell anyone about it, he’d be convinced and convincing. _A small house with windows facing the sunrise. The nonexistent sister teaching her oldest imaginary son to cook. The younger son and daughter sitting on the floor on either side of Cassian, who was drawing them a map and telling a story._ But into this construct, there was something new—the brightest thought of all: Jyn sitting with them, helping illustrate, smiling like a star. At night, the three adults would pick up a child each and put them to bed. Then Jyn and Cassian would retreat to their own—no: go out walking the sands under the stars. And make love, and dance, and sleep in each other’s arms. _I’ll pay the cost of this dream. With the rest of my life._

With the most dramatic sense of timing, the lights flickered once and finally vanished, plunging everything and everyone into darkness. A roaring screech of metal, loud as thunder, echoed into the screaming air. The stern fell back to the sea, so abruptly and violently that some people lost their grip and fell overboard.

It seemed strangely distant right now. It wouldn’t in nightmares, after.

Jyn muttered something that might have been his name.

Letting little time for their brains to catch up, the broken boat started to rise again.

“We have to get on the other side,” Jyn screamed to catch his attention. At once, he unclasped her and moved. They helped each other over to what had been outside and was now above.

They teetered atop the whole scene and for a moment nothing moved anymore. It might have been minutes, but it felt like an eternity, and yet so little time… before the wounded ship started to sink again—which seemed like the final act.

When the plummet began… Perhaps it would have been better if they’d stayed removed from intense emotion. —but _no._ Because then they couldn’t have allowed the other feelings, and those were too vital not to inhabit one last time. Still, strategy returned enough for Cassian to try to calculate. How long to wait so they’d survive impact? how early to manage in case the suction of the ship could pull them with it? …he didn’t know, he just didn’t know…

“Don’t let go of my hand!” Jyn shouted—her last words before _“Jump!”_

They jumped, as far out as they could.

Then, icy horror.  
All sense of direction annihilated  
unable to breathe  
unable to move from shock and cold  
he couldn’t tell if he’d succeeded in locking his grip and still had her hand  
everything stunned out of sensing

and then miracle, of reflex or fate, and he broke the surface. Frantically, he gulped in air and looked for her.

 _Thank god thank gods oh madre de cielos,_ there she was, at the end of his arm.

But they were surrounded by others caught in this terror. Everywhere he looked, screaming faces pleading for help, panicked, and fighting to stay afloat—and very quickly, did he realize the dangers of such struggles. He could barely see now, he would never stop seeing in dreams, two people clawing each other under, both trying to use the other to stay above.

Jyn broke free of his grasp. His hand was so numb from the cold. Just as fast, she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled at him. “We have to swim away, come on! Just swim!”

He showed his agreement by doing it. As best he could. Which—if he could keep the water out of his mouth long enough, he’d tell her… _Tell her later. Believe in_ _‘later’. You despair, you die._

No physical effort had ever been harder in his life. The cold water felt solid and turned his bones to ice and limbs to stone. His injured shoulder and side were numb, which should have been helpful but really wasn’t. Only knowing _(believing, hoping)_ Jyn was right ahead of him kept him going. He wondered how far she intended to swim, _where_ she wanted to go. But she didn’t stop and she didn’t let go. Her faith carried him with her.

“Almost,” she encouraged. “Come, that will do.”

Then… was it real?… she was _above_ him, holding her hands to him. He mindlessly went to her. She backed away for a moment that made him almost panic, before he realized that he was rolling onto… _carajo a door a raft they did it_ and she’d just moved to counterbalance so he didn’t put them right back into the water.

They were side-by-side, gasping, just as cold but no longer pushing their stone arms through ice water, lying down, _floating._ Clear of everyone else; still and alone.

_Do you think anyone listened?_

For a flash, Cassian felt so sick with himself, he wanted to roll off into the depths. He was taking someone’s place after all, benefitting from someone taking his advice that he hadn’t taken himself.

Except then he turned his head and saw Jyn again and guilt just became gratitude. _She’ll live. Whoever you are. Thank you._ He’d accept the miracle of survival; his for hers.

_Jyn._

Carefully, not to upend them, he turned on his side to face her. She looked so pale in the night, almost blue. He stifled the panicked urge to grab onto her. No sudden movements here. Not that he _could…_ when he tried to raise his hand, how difficult it was… In his arrogance, he’d thought he knew all kinds of fear, but this one was new to him. To have his whole body, at once, so against him. He focused on her with all of his being.

Jyn put a hand on his face. He could hear her teeth clashing, or maybe it was his. “Now, we just… just survive… the next thing.”

 _Outlast. Wait. Survive._ …until what? Someone rescued them? From the middle of the ocean? He hadn’t been able to think that far ahead until now. Hell, those in the real lifeboats were in the same position after all, they could just wait longer…

No. He wouldn’t think about it now either. There was no point. However much longer he got with her was a gift in itself.

He didn’t have her nautical knowledge, but he had a little else. He opened the coat she’d put on him and his layers beneath, then the fronts of hers. He took her to his chest so they were skin-to-skin above their hearts and lungs. He closed their coats around them both, cocooning them together. Even sodden, the layers should help keep in their body heat, which should stimulate and strengthen one another’s. —También, fuck it; he needed to hold her.

“I never told you,” he managed. “I’m a terrible swimmer.”

She brought their faces together and tried to humor him: “I hardly noticed.”

His mouth shuddered too much to kiss her. He pressed his forehead to hers and hugged her tight.

As if putting their thudding hearts side-by-side could keep both of them beating. _Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please don’t. Please.  
  
_

⁂

  
The screams had quieted down.

The agonising pain had vanished, too, but Jyn wasn’t relieved. Quite the opposite. Hurting meant she was still alive. She knew her body had started to shut down. She’d never been more tired. Staying conscious became another fight that drained her energy away, but she couldn’t let herself slip away like this. _Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep._

For a moment, that inner voice sounded like her dear father.

She blinked into the night, focusing on Cassian again.

Who seemed to read her mind, or perhaps some physical stir, because he suddenly spoke. In a raspish echo but still his own voice. “I need you to know. I changed my mind.”

Forming the words with her lips took a trying instant. “About what?”

“What I said… about not deciding all at once, whether we’d stick together after starting our new lives. Not binding ourselves too soon. I change my mind. If we get back to land, I’d like to marry you. If you want to.”

She couldn’t tell if she’d heard that right or if she was asleep, after all, dreaming it away.

“You want to… marry me…” she slowly repeated. The thin layer of ice in his hair seemed real enough.

“We don’t have to,” he corrected himself. His skin against hers still provided some improbable warmth. Not enough, from either of them… but gladly just enough to know the embrace. “I just want to stay with you. For the rest of my life. However long that is. If you still want it.”

If she hadn’t been frozen solid, she bet her heart would have hammered inside her chest. “I want to… be your wife, forever.”

He breathed—that tiny warmth, that bit of life—and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Si dios quiere, I pledge myself to you, Jyn Kallea-Erso, beloved wife.”

Were they getting married _right now?_ Even stranded in the middle of the North Atlantic, she couldn’t think of a more meaningful thing to do. And she still intended to make that ‘forever’ an entire life. She would never give up, not anymore, not while she still held his hand, but she wanted this, too. If all hopes failed them… she wouldn’t let them be apart in death.

“God is my witness,” she managed to say, “I take you, Cassian Andor… to be my faithful husband in this life and… all the others.”

He held her so tight, maybe a spark of warmth flickered between them again. He bent his head to brush his lips to hers. Their mouths were both parched and cracked and numb, but kept enough determination to seal the vow.

“No matter what,” he whispered, “I’m so glad to be with you.”


End file.
